large, stout man, looking round the table with an amiably stupid expression on his face, "what's the news to-day?"
"Can't expect any news, major," replied Dobson, "in this awful dull place. Dullest station ever was in, I think," added the young man yawning — "wish the hot weather were over."
"Well, I rather like the hot weather," observed the major, blandly; "there's no drill, for one thing." Here a languid smile possessed the company, all except the visitor, who did not take the joke; and the major recovering himself added, "At least drill in moderation is very well, but I must say I enjoy the long days; plenty of time to one's self, and no interruptions. I like to have time to turn round in."
As Major Dumble was known not to possess a book in his house, save the Bengal Army List and the Military Pay Code, and was not burdened with correspondence of any sort, his day in his bungalow must unquestionably have afforded him ample time wherein to perform that operation. But it was generally understood that the worthy commandant of the 76th distributed his time pretty equally between refreshing naps, discussing bazaar gossip with his servants, and feeding his poultry, the major being a connoisseur in fowls, and supplying his surplus stock in a friendly way to the mess at cost price.
"Oh, it's all very well for you, major," continued Dobson, "who have all the business of the regiment to look after, but I'm blessed if I can get half-an-hour's work a day out of my company. These hot-weather days are disgustingly long; I almost wish sometimes there was a little drill going on, to kill time and give a fellow a little exercise."
"You should play racquets," observed Braddon; "you are sure to go to the bad if you eat three heavy meals a day and don't take exercise."
"Oh, I can't be bothered with racquets," replied the ensign; "it's too much trouble, and makes one so hot."
"Ah yes, these military gentlemen find all play and no work a little tedious," said Grumbull to his friend; "but we medical officers have to work away just the same all the year round; hot weather or cold, no holiday for us."
"How many men have you got in hospital now, doctor?" asked Braddon.
"It isn't the number of patients that make the work," replied Grumbull; "it's the system. One must visit the hospital morning and evening, and all the routine has to be gone through just the same whether the hospital is full or empty; returns to be filled in, and stores to be counted, and all the rest of it. They turn us medical officers into regular clerks," he continued to his friend, "as you will find when you come to have medical charge of a regiment."
"Yes, it is quite like cutting grindstones with razors," said Braddon; "you ought to have a secretary, at the least, to keep the medical accounts of the regiment, so that you might give your undivided attention to your five sick patients. That is the number in to-day's return, I think."
"You are very satirical, as usual," replied Grumbull; "but I think when a man has had a scientific education and taken a university degree, he might be trusted to issue an ounce of quinine, or a scrap of lint, without filling up a return in duplicate."
"Ah, I can't go with you there, doctor," broke in the major; "where you have stores, there you must in course have returns, — else how are you to audit? As old Counter, the late auditor-general, a precious long-headed fellow he was too, used always to say, 'Show me a voucher, and then I shall know where I am.' Why, bless me!" continued Dumble, with enthusiasm, as reminiscences of his former occupation crowded upon his memory, "when I was in the pay department, I have had as many as five hundred vouchers passing through my office in a week; and never an arrear of any sort, either, everything audited up to within fifteen months of date."
"So you are a university man," said the young guest of the evening to his host; "Edinburgh, I suppose?"
"No, Aberdeen."
"Ah, well, no doubt, a university degree is a very nice thing — it gives a stamp to a man, so to speak; but I think nowadays the rising men in the profession go more to the London hospitals, and come out as M.R.C.S. That is what I did myself. There are so many openings, you see, for a fellow who makes a name for himself in the hospitals — dresserships and clinical lectureships, and what not. Both Fiston and Thelusson wanted me to stop on in London," added the young man, modestly, "but I was anxious to see something of the world, and to investigate some forms of tropical diseases, so I look an assistant-surgeonship. I am very anxious myself to get some experience of cholera, for example.
