"How amusing! How interesting! It's like a scene in a play!" cried
Mrs. Wilders, as she stepped ashore.
Escorted by her husband and cousin, they pushed their way through the
crowd towards the Waterport gateway, and under it into the main ditch.
As they approached there was a cry of "Guard, turn out!" and the
Waterport Guard, under its officer, fell in with open ranks to give
the general a salute. General Wilders acknowledged the compliment,
and, while he stood there with two fingers to his hat, Sergeant McKay
advanced and reported himself.
"Your orderly, sir."
"Eh! what?" said the general, a little surprised. "My orderly! Very
considerate of Sir Thomas," he went on. "One of the Royal Picts, too,
and a guard from the same regiment! Most attentive, I'm sure!"
The general went up at once to the front rank of the guard, and
proceeded to inspect the men carefully. With his own hands he altered
the hang of the knapsacks and the position of the belts; he measured
in the regular way, with two fingers, the length of the pouch below
the elbow, grumbling to himself as he went along.
"So you use harness-blacking for your pouches. I don't approve of
that. And your pipe-clay; it's got too blue a tinge."
While he lingered thus fondly over the trifling details that, to his
mind, summed up the whole duty of a general officer, his wife's voice
was heard impatiently calling him to her side.
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