But when my mother, with unconscious diplomacy, had kept her to
luncheon, and the Colonel had handed her to her seat, and had stroked
his moustache, and asked in his best manner if she meant to devote her
son to the service of his country, Mrs. Simpson undid her
bonnet-strings, fairly turned her back on my father, and was quite
unconscious when Martha handed the potatoes; and she left us wreathed in
smiles, and resolved that Mr. Simpson should buy their son Horace a
commission instead of taking him into the business. Mr. Simpson did not
share her views, and I believe he said some rather nasty things about
swaggering, and not having one sixpence to rub against another. And Mrs.
Simpson (who was really devoted to Horace and could hardly bear him out
of her sight) reflected that it was possible to get shot as well as to
grow a moustache if you went into the army; but she still maintained
that she should always remember the Colonel as a thorough gentleman, and
a wonderful judge of the character of boys.
The Colonel made great friends with the Woods, and he was deeply
admired by our rector, who, like many parsons, had a very military
heart, and delighted in exciting tales of the wide world which he could
never explore.
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