The Test

"Are they here?" I cried, leaping out of bed. "Why didn't you say so? Where's my tub of water? Don't stand there grinning, I tell you. Say to Colonel Willett I'll join him in a second."

The fat little landlord retreated crab-wise. I soused my clipped head in the tub, took a spatter-bath like a wild duck in a hurry, clothed me in my gay forest-dress, making no noise lest I wake Elsin, and ran down the rough wooden stairs to the coffee-room, plump into a crowd of strange officers, all blue and buff and gilt.

"Well, Carus!" came a cool, drawling voice from the company; and I saw the tall, gaunt figure of Colonel Marinus Willett sauntering toward me, his hawk's nose wrinkled into a whimsical smile.

"Colonel," I stammered, saluting, then sprang forward and grasped the veteran's outstretched hand, asking his pardon for my tardiness.

"What a great big boy!" he commented, holding my hand in both of his, and inspecting me from crown to heel. "Is this the lad I've heard of--below--" His nose wrinkled again, and his grimly humorous mouth twitched. "Carus, you've grown since I last saw you at the patroon's, romping a reel with those rosy Dutch lassies from Vrooman's--eh? That's well, my son; the best dancers were ever the best fighters! Look at Tim Murphy! As for me, I never could learn to dance with you Valley aristocrats. Carus, you should know my officers." And he mentioned names with a kindly, informal precision characteristic of a gentleman too great to follow conventions, too highly bred to ignore them. The consequent compromise was, as I say, a delightfully formal informality which reigned among his entourage, but never included himself, although he apparently invited it. In this, I imagine, he resembled his Excellency, and have heard others say so; but I do not know, for I never saw his Excellency.