of Nandy's wardrobe he spared
were the boots, which wouldn't fit him at all.

"So long!" said the soldier, having lit his pipe: and with that he gave a
shake to settle himself down in Nandy's clothes, picked up his pistol and
scrambled up through the bushes. In thirty seconds he was over the cliff
and out of sight, and Nandy left to stare at his new uniform.

He picked up the articles gingerly and slipped them on, one by one.
There was a coarse flannel shirt with a leather stock, a pair of woollen
socks, black pantaloons with a line of red piping, spatterdashes, a tunic
such as I've described--with pipe-clayed belt and crossbelt--and last of
all a great japanned shako mounted with a brass plate and chin-strap and a
scarlet-and-white cockade like a shaving-brush. When his toilet was
finished, Nandy stepped down to the edge of the tide to take a look at his
own reflection. It seemed to him that he cut a fine figure; but somehow
he couldn't fetch up stomach to wear that rory-tory shako, but took his
way towards Merry-Garden carrying it a-dangle by the chin-strap.
However, by the time he reached the gate he had begun to feel more
accustomed to his grandeur, and likewise that in for a penny was in for a
pound: so, clapping the blessed thing tight on his head and pulling down
the strap, he marched up the steps with a bold face.

The verandah was empty, and he strode along it and past the laylock-bush
where--scarce ten minutes before--Dr. Clatworthy had received such a
desperate shock. A little way beyond it was a path leading round to the
back door, and Nandy was making for this when his ears caught the sound of
laughing and the jingling of teacups from the line of arbours, and he
spied Susannah coming towards the house with a teapot in one hand and an
empty cream-dish in the other. For the moment she didn't recognise him.

"Attention! Stand at ease!" said Nandy, drawing himself up to the salute.

"The Lord deliver us!" screamed Susannah, dropping teapot and cream-dish
together: and at the sound of it a dozen gentlemen in regimentals came
rushing out from their arbours. Before Nandy knew whether he stood on his
heels or his head one of these gentlemen had gripped him by the collar,
and was requiring him to say instanter what the devil he meant by it.

"Why, damme," shouted someone, "if 'tisn't the uniform of the
Thirty-second! Here! Shilston! Appleshaw!"

"What's wrong?"

"The fellow belongs to yours."

"T