gymnasium. 'Quietly provide yourselves with the requisite dumb-bells; returnin' quietly to your place. Number off from the right, in a low voice. Odd numbers one pace to the front. Even numbers stand fast. Now, leanin' forward from the 'ips, takin' your time from me.'
The dumb-bells rose and fell, clashed and were returned as one. The boys were experts at the weary game.
'Ve-ry good. I shall be sorry when any of you resume your 'abits of punctuality. Quietly return dumb-bells. We will now try some simple drill.'
'Ugh! I know that simple drill.'
'It would be 'ighly to your discredit if you did not, Muster Corkran. At the same time, it is not so easy as it looks.'
'Bet you a bob, I can drill as well as you, Foxy.'
'We'll see later. Now try to imagine you ain't defaulters at all, but an 'arf company on parade, me bein' your commandin' officer. There's no call to laugh. If you're lucky, most of you will 'ave to take drills 'arf your life. Do me a little credit. You've been at it long enough, goodness knows.'
They were formed into fours, marched, wheeled, and countermarched, the spell of ordered motion strong on them. As Foxy said, they had been at it a long time.
The gymnasium door opened, revealing M'Turk in charge of an old gentleman.
The Sergeant, leading a wheel, did not see.
