All our work is to do; and it shall be done, old peoples. Get a-
way!" He waved his hand imperiously, and pointed to the man. "You
see him. He is not good to see. He was just one little - oh, so
little -accident, that no one remembered. Now he is
That! So will you be, brother soldiers so brave so will you be.
But you will never come back. You will all go where he is gone,
or" - he pointed to the great coffin-shadow on the ceiling, and
muttering, "Seventy millions - get a-way, you old peoples," fell
asleep.
"Sweet, and to the point," said little Mildred. "What's the use of
getting wroth? Let's make this poor devil comfortable."
But that was a matter suddenly and swiftly taken from the loving
hands of the White Hussars. The lieutenant had returned only to go
away again three days later, when the wail of the Dead March, and
the tramp of the squadrons, told the wondering Station, who saw no
gap in the mess-table, that an officer of the regiment had
resigned his new-found commission.
And Dirkovitch, bland, supple, and always genial, went away too by
a night train. Little Mildred and another man saw him off, for he
was the guest of the mess, and even had he smitten the colonel
with the open hand, the law of that mess allowed no relaxation of
hospitality.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126