"What is this man's name?"
"Jeremiah Brigley, sir;" and the young officer carefully put down the
name before Dick retreated and took his leave, the new arrival saying:
"Here, Smithson, I shall want you to give me some lessons, too."
The next minute Dick was crossing the barrack yard to reach his
quarters, wondering whether it would be possible for Jerry to be
exchanged, and meeting the bandmaster, who said rather gruffly--
"Where have you been, sir?"
"To Mr Lacey's, sir."
"Ha! I hope I shall find out that this is the truth."
Dick flushed.
"There is too much lesson-giving, and the band practice is neglected.
Be good enough to recollect, sir, that I have reported your conduct."
"I don't understand you, sir," replied Dick.
"I allude to that episode, sir, when you absented yourself from the
practice without leave. Your conduct is not what it should be, sir.
And recollect this: that a man picked up, as you were, in the street
ought to be doubly careful when he has got a lift in life; so have a
care, sir--have a care."
"I am sorry I absented myself, sir," began Dick, but Wilkins raised
himself on tiptoe, and interrupted him.
"Say `stopped away,' sir. Leave `absented' to your officers. There's
too much favouritism in this regiment; but I warn you, sir: have a
care--have a care."
He strutted away, arranging the few thin bits of hair about his ears,
leaving Dick looking after him.
"Oh, you stupid little man!" muttered Dick, who then went to his
quarters to think out what he had better do. But, try hard as he would,
he could not think it out; for the more he thought, the more it seemed
to him that he had completely obliterated himself by his foolish act--
that Sir Richard Frayne was dead to the world and Dick Smithson reigned
in his stead.