"I'll go and tell him you're here," said the man who had fetched him, and he lifted a curtain, caught his foot against a fold, stumbled, and drove his head with a crash against the panel of the door beyond. Then, as the curtain fell behind him, Dick heard, in smothered tones:-- "I had you out of the ranks, Joe Todd, for my servant; I don't want a battering-ram." "Beg pardon, sir. Haxident." "Accident! That's the third time you have done it within a week. Torn the curtain?" "No, sir; don't think so. Hurt my head." "I don't believe it, Joe. A wooden door could not hurt your head! You may have cracked the panel!" "No, sir; all right, sir." "Then take those clothes and brush them again. The trousers have mud-splashes as high as the knees. And take those boots, too; I can't wear them like that." The man came out of the inner room with a portion of his master's uniform under his arm and a pair of boots, swinging by the tags, one of which badly-cleaned articles he dropped in trying to open the outer door, the handle of which Dick turned for him, so that he could pass out. As Dick closed the door he was conscious of a rustling behind him, and he turned smartly, to find himself face to face with the great lieutenant, gorgeous now in shawl-pattern smoking-trousers and purple velvet lounging-coat. "Now for it!" he thought. "And you might have been an officer," said the lieutenant, shaking his head at Dick sadly, while all the blood in the lad's body seemed to run to his heart. "I--I beg your pardon, sir," faltered Dick, as he began to think that he would have to get away again, and then recalled the fact that he could not without being looked upon as a deserter. "I said `And you might have been an officer.'" "Yes," said Dick bitterly, and turning and speaking as he felt that he was driven to bay. "I'm glad you feel it," said the lieutenant, letting himself sink down into a lounge. "I do, sir--bitterly," replied Dick. "If I were not as patient as a lamb, I should have kicked him out of the place a year ago. Of course, it didn't matter before you, but it might have been the colonel or the major; and, though there is a way out through my bedroom, that blundering ass must bring my boots and clothes through my sitting-room!" Dick felt as if he had been respited after condemnation, and began to breathe freely. "You heard him run his head against the door, of course?" "Yes, sir." "But it wouldn't break; everything else does. He'll ruin me before he has done.--I have sent for you, Smithson," said the lieutenant, "because I want you to give me some lessons on the flute." "Oh, with pleasure, sir," began Dick. "I--I beg your pardon, sir. Of course, if you wish it." "I hope it will be with pleasure, Smithson," said the lieutenant, smiling; "but I'm afraid it will not be; for, between ourselves, I am very dull over music." "I used to think I was, sir," said Dick; "but I worked hard till I could play a bit."