ore sweetly than before, though it was not
really the lieutenant's fault, for Dick kept on throwing out a few clear
notes--additional to his part--when some of his companion's threatened
to die away, and these grace notes came in with such delicious, florid
eccentricity that a hearer would have taken them for intentional
variations cleverly composed by a good musician.

On the whole, then, the performance was as creditable as it was
charming; and the second verse ended.

"A bar's rest, and then once more," whispered Dick. "One--two--three--
four."

_Pat_! _scatter_, and a feeble groan!

Then a voice from the open window--a peculiarly clarionetty harsh voice,
such as could only come from a very elderly lady's throat--

"Thank you! Very nicely played. Good-night."

The window squeaked, was then closed loudly, and whispering "Come
along!" the lieutenant was in full retreat towards the gate, while Dick
was choking in his endeavour to smother his laughter.

"Coppers!" groaned the lieutenant; "that must have been quite a
shilling's worth of halfpence wrapped up in paper. They hit me on the
top of the head."

"And burst and scattered over the grass," whispered Dick, trying to be
serious.

"Yes, Smithson; and if I had had no cap the consequences might have been
serious."

"Were you hurt, sir?"

"More mentally than bodily, Smithson," sighed the lieutenant.

"But how could the lady make such a mistake as to think we--you were a
travelling musician?"

"The lady?" cried the lieutenant angrily. "How can you be so absurd,
Smithson! it was her prim old aunt!"

There was no more said on the way back to the barracks, much to Dick's
satisfaction, for he felt that if the lieutenant spoke he would be
compelled to burst out with a roar of laughter in his face.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

DICK SMITHSON'S ANTI-FAT.

Busy days in barracks, youth, and the high spirits consequent upon
living an active, healthy life, had their effect on Dick. The past
naturally grew farther off, and, unnaturally, seemed farther still; so
that, before six months had passed, the young bandsman had thoroughly
settled down to his music and military life, and began to find it
enjoyable, in spite of the petty annoyances such as fall to the lot of
all.

For there was always something in the way. The band had its regular
military duties, and played at the mess, where, to Wilkins' great
disgust, Dick's flute and piccolo solos grew in favour w