Gil the Gunner | Page 5

chest and waist.
But he was a pattern of smooth politeness, and as serious as a judge,
while I sought for little bits of encouragement, painfully conscious as I
was about my physique.
He was so quiet and confidential, and took such pains to suggest the
various articles I should require, that I felt bound to place myself in his
hands, and to a certain extent he won my confidence sufficiently to
make me ask a few questions, to set myself a little at my ease.
"Don't often have any one so thin and young as I am to measure for a
uniform, do you?" I said.
He looked at me with astonishment--real or assumed.
"Thin as you, sir! Oh, you are nothing to some gentlemen--I mean," he
added hastily, "as to being slender. Why, some officers who come here
are little better than schoolboys."

"But I am thin," I said.
"Slight, sir," he said reprovingly--"slight. I should hardly call you thin.
You'd look a little thin in evening-dress, but in uniform only slight.
You see, we are obliged to pad a little in the chest, and to square the
shoulders a little, and, one way and another, sir, when we have finished
you, you will be surprised."
I was. But just then I only coughed, and felt glad that I was not the
youngest and thinnest officer the tailor had fitted out. "Oh, by the way,"
I said as indifferently as I could, "what about swords?"
I felt proud of my nonchalantly easy way of dealing so familiarly with
the arme blanche, as the French call it, in the plural number.
"Oh, we shall supply your sword, sir; everything, if you entrust us with
your commands. There are some gentlemen who advise that you should
not go to a military tailor, but to a sword-cutler; and, of course, every
gentleman has a right to go where he pleases, but if you will trust me,
sir, you shall have a proved blade, of which you will be proud."
"Oh, of course I shall trust you," I said hurriedly. "But about size. I
think I should like, er--a light, rather smaller-sized sword."
"Oh no; excuse me, sir," said the tailor apologetically. "Speaking from
experience, sir, no. There was Lieutenant Verney, sir, younger and
lighter than you sir, and not so big-boned--Major Verney he is now, a
regular customer--said just the same as you did, sir, and we gave way.
Consequently he was greatly dissatisfied. He grew, but the sword did
not, and he soon had to have another. Now, if I might advise, I should
say have a full-size regulation weapon, well balanced with a good
heavy hilt. You'll be surprised, big-boned as you are, sir, how soon you
will put on muscle and spread out."
Of course I gave way, being naturally proud of being considered
capable of wielding a full-sized sword, and in due time, though not
until I had fretted myself into a great state of excitement, the
accoutrements were sent home.

It was hard work to assume that indifference which I did not feel, and
I'm afraid that I did not deceive anybody save myself.
I knew when the things came, for one of the servants came and told me,
and I said in a tone suggestive of the idea that I was in the habit of
having uniforms sent home, "Have the things placed in my room."
The servant stared at me, and I turned away, feeling furiously hot as I
longed to run up and tear open the packages and tin boxes to gloat over
their contents. But I taught myself to feel that I could not do that
now--it would be too boyish, so I suffered tortures as I went out into
the grounds to talk to some of our fellows, and try to keep my mind to
what was being said.
Then came relief in the shape of Morton, who hurried up to the group
where I stood. "Hi! Gil Vincent," he cried excitedly. "What's the
matter?" I said in what was intended to be a cool way, but decidedly
was not.
"What's the matter, indeed! They're taking your gorgeous array up into
your room. Tin cases and swords, and goodness knows what. Come
on!"
"Come on?" I said coolly; "what do you mean?"
"Hark at him!" cried Morton. "Here he is, as cool as a fish. Don't you
want to tog out?"
"No. What nonsense!" I said; but I can remember feeling excited as he
spoke.
"Get out! Don't be a humbug. You're red hot to get into them."
"Absurd! Why, I shall be always wearing that sort of thing soon."
"Gammon!" cried Morton. "Oh, I say, what a jolly impostor you are,
Gil. Come on, lads, let's have him in, and make him