"
"You will have no more loyal subordinate than me, Sergeant-major
McKay. Come to me whenever you are in trouble or doubt. I will do all
I can, you may depend. I like you, boy, and that's enough said."
The old sergeant seized McKay's hand, shook it warmly, and then
abruptly quitted the room.
Stanislas was eager to tell this pleasing news of his promotion to
Mariquita; but she was the last person to hear it, notwithstanding.
McKay entered at once upon his new duties, and they kept him close
from morning till night. A good sergeant-major allows himself no
leisure. He is the first on parade, the last to leave it. He is
perpetually on the move; now inspecting guards and pickets, now
superintending drills, while all day long he has his eye upon the
conduct of the non-commissioned officers, and the demeanour and dress
of the private men.
There was no time to hang about the tobacconist's shop in Bombardier
Lane, waiting furtively for a chance of seeing Mariquita alone. They
kept their eye upon her, too; and when at last he tore himself away
from his new and absorbing duties he paid two or three visits to the
place before he could speak to her.
Mariquita received him coldly--distantly.
They were standing, as usual, on each side of the low fence at the end
of the garden.
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