It might have been very much worse. You are thoroughly up to the
Adjutant business, Bobby, and of course the young officers under you
will be immensely impressed by your game leg and bit of ribbon. A very
sound appointment."
"What are they going to do with you?" asked Bobby in his turn.
"I am to command our Reserve Battalion, with acting rank of
Lieutenant-Colonel. Think of that, my lad! They have confirmed you in
your rank as Captain, I suppose?"
"Yes."
"Good! The only trouble is that you will be stationed in the South of
England and I in the North of Scotland; so we shall not see quite
so much of one another as of late. However, we must get together
occasionally, and split a tin of bully for old times' sake."
"Bully? By gum!" said Bobby thoughtfully. "I have almost forgotten
what it tastes like. (Fried sole, please; then roast lamb.) Eight
months in hospital do wash out certain remembrances."
"But not all," said Wagstaffe.
"No, not all. I--I wonder how our chaps are getting on, over there."
"The regiment?"
"Yes. It is so hard to get definite news."
"They were in the Arras show. Did better than ever; but--well, they
required a big draft afterwards."
"The third time!" sighed Bobby. "Did any one write to you about it?"
"Yes. Who do you think?"
"Some one in the regiment?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know there were any of the old lot left.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233