he raised his hand, palm forwards, in a salute.
Norah stood by the door, with her mouth and eyes open, wondering if her grand-uncle had ever, in his prime, looked like this magnificent creature; and whether he, in his turn, would ever come to resemble her grand-uncle.
The old man blinked up at his visitor, and shook his head slowly.
"Sit ye down, sergeant," said he, pointing with his stick to a chair. "You're full young for the stripes. Lordy, it's easier to get three now than one in my day. Gunners were old soldiers then and the grey hairs came quicker than the three stripes."
"I am eight years' service, sir," cried the sergeant. "Macdonald is my name--Sergeant Macdonald, of H. Battery, Southern Artillery Division. I have called as the spokesman of my mates at the gunner's barracks to say that we are proud to have you in the town, sir."
Old Brewster chuckled and rubbed his bony hands.
"That were what the Regent said," he cried. "`The ridgment is proud of ye,' says he. `And I am proud of the ridgment,' says I. `And a damned good answer too,' says he, and he and Lord Hill bust out a-laughin'."
