“That is always the way, Hunter. If a man goes his own way, and that way does not happen to be the way of the mess, it is supposed that he must have had trouble of some sort. As Bathurst is the son of a distinguished soldier, and is now the owner of a fine property at home, I don’t see what trouble he can have had. He may possibly, for anything I know, have had some boyish love affairs, but I don’t think he is the sort of man to allow his whole life to be affected by any foolery of that sort. He is simply an enthusiast. “It is good for mankind that there should be some enthusiasts. I grant that it would be an unpleasant world if we were all enthusiasts, but the sight of a man like him throwing his whole life and energy into his work, and wearing himself out trying to lessen the evils he sees around him, ought to do good to us all. Look at these boys,” and he apostrophized Wilson and Richards, as they appeared together at the door. “What do they think of but amusing themselves and shirking their duties as far as possible?” “Oh, I say, Doctor,” Wilson exclaimed, astonished at this sudden attack, “what are you pitching into us like that for? That is not fair, is it, Major? We amuse ourselves, of course, when there is nothing else to do, but I am sure we don’t shirk our work. You don’t want us to spend our spare time in reading Greek, I suppose?” “No; but you might spend some of it very profitably in learning some of these native languages,” the Doctor said. “I don’t believe that you know above a dozen native words now. You can shout for brandy and water, and for a light for your cigars, but I fancy that that is about the extent of it.” “We are going to have a moonshee next week, Doctor,” Wilson said, a little crestfallen, “and a horrid nuisance it will be.” “That is only because you are obliged to pass in the vernacular, Wilson. So you need not take any credit to yourself on that account.” “Doctor, you are in one of your worst possible tempers this morning,” Isobel said. “You snap at us all round. You are quite intolerable this morning.” “I am rather put out by Bathurst running away in this fashion, Miss Hannay. I had made up my mind that he would stop three or four days longer, and it is pleasant to have someone who can talk and think about something besides horses and balls. But I will go away; I don’t want to be the disturbing element; and I have no doubt that Richards is burning to tell you the odds on some of the horses today.” “Shall we see you on the racecourse, Doctor?” the Major asked, as the Doctor moved towards the door. “You will not, Major; one day is enough for me. If they would get up a donkey race confined strictly to the subalterns of the station, I might take the trouble to go and look at it.” “The Doctor is in great form today,” Wilson said good temperedly, after the laugh which followed the Doctor’s exit had subsided; “and I am sure we did nothing to provoke him.”