Part 10 (2/2)

”I put it pretty strong, young un,” his friend had said when he gave him the note; ”mind you stick to what I say.”

The sergeant had indeed--incited partly perhaps by a liking for the lad, partly by a desire to return an equivalent for the sovereign with which Edgar had presented him--drawn somewhat upon his imagination. ”I have known the young chap for a very long time,” he said; ”his father and mother died years ago, and though I am no relation to him he looks upon me as his guardian as it were. He has learned the trumpet a bit, and will soon be able to sound all the calls. He will make a smart young soldier, and will, I expect, take his place in the ranks as soon as he is old enough. Do the best you can for him, and keep an eye on him.”

”I will take you round to the trumpet-major,” the sergeant said; ”he had better go with you to the adjutant. You know what Sergeant M'Bride says in this letter?”

”No, I don't know exactly what he says. He told me he would introduce me to you, and that you would, he was sure, do your best to put me through.”

”Well, you had better hear what he does say. It is always awkward to have misunderstandings. He says you have lost your father and mother; you understand that?”

”That's right,” Edgar said quietly.

”And that he has known you for a very long time?”

Edgar nodded.

”It seems to me a very long time,” he added.

”And that though he is no actual relation of yours he considers he stands in the light of your guardian. That is important, you know.”

”I will remember that,” Edgar said. ”There is certainly no one as far as I know who has a better right than Sergeant M'Bride to advise me, or give me permission to enlist.”

”Well, you stick to that and you are all right. Now, come along.”

”I wonder who the young chap is,” the sergeant said to himself as they crossed the barrack yard. ”As to what M'Bride said, we know all about that; I have been on the recruiting staff myself. But I think the young un was speaking the truth. He has lost his father and mother, he has known M'Bride for some time, and he has got no one who has any right to interfere with him. Rum, too. The boy is a gentleman all over, though he has rigged himself out in those clothes. Well, we are short of trumpeters, and I don't suppose the adjutant will inquire very closely.”

The trumpet-major was quite willing to do his share of the business. He was glad to fill up one of the vacancies, especially as it seemed that the new-comer would soon be able to take his place in the ranks; and after asking a few questions he went across with him to the adjutant.

The latter looked at Edgar critically.

”Smart young fellow,” he said to himself. ”Got into some sc.r.a.pe at home, I suppose, and run away. Of course he has some got-up lie ready. Well, sergeant, what is it?”

”Lad wishes to enlist as a trumpeter, sir. Here is a letter from his next friend, Sergeant M'Bride of the 18th Hussars. Lad's father and mother dead. M'Bride stands in place of guardian.”

”A likely story,” the adjutant muttered to himself. ”What is your name, lad?”

”I enlist as Edward Smith,” Edgar said, ”age sixteen.”

”Parents dead?”

”I lost them when I was a child, sir.”

”Who were they?”

”My father was a sergeant in the 30th Foot, sir.”

The adjutant was watching him narrowly.

”Either he is telling the truth,” he said to himself, ”or he is one of the calmest young liars I have ever come across.”

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