“No,” answered Redmond listlessly.  And thereupon he relapsed into moody silence.

“Wy, wot’s up?” enquired Hardy presently, scanning the other’s downcast countenance.  “Wot’s th’ matter wiv you, son? . . . you don’t look ’appy! . . .”

“You bet I’m not, either!” burst out George suddenly.  “The Old Man’s offered me Dudley’s job, but I don’t want a staff job.  I want to go back to Davidsburg.  Who cares to be stuck around the Post?”

“Me for one!” retorted the old soldier grinning, “Jes’ now, anyway.  Listen, son!  Th’ Old Man ’e sez to me:  ‘’Ardy!’ ’e sez, ’you’ve bin ’it pretty bad and I find you deserve a softer class of dewty than goin’ back t’ prisoner’s escort.  I think I’ll recommend you for Provo’-Sorjint, in charge o’ th’ Guard-room, w’en you’re able t’ return t’ dewty,’ ’e sez.”

With an effort Redmond roused himself to the point of congratulating the Cockney upon his prospective promotion.  He had no desire to act as a wet blanket on such an auspicious occasion as this, his own troubles notwithstanding.

“That ain’t all,” continued Hardy, with a gloating chuckle.  “Th’ Old Man, ’e sez ‘Belt’s bein’ invalided, McCullough’s gettin’ ’is third stripe, an’ Dyvis is goin’ dahn t’ th’ Corp’ril’s Class at Regina, but that there young Redmond worries me!  I don’t know wot t’ do abaht ‘im,’ ‘e sez—­jes’ like that—­sorter kind-like—­not a bit like th’ O.C. o’ a Division torkin’ t’ a buck private.

“‘Beg yer pardon, Sir!’ I sez, ’but if you let ‘im go back t’ Dyvidsburg I fink ’e’ll be quite contented.  Seems like ‘e wants t’ be wiv Sorjint Slavin an’ Constable Yorke agin.’

“‘Fink so?’ sez ‘e, pullin’ ’is oweld moustache, ‘I sure do, Sir,’ I sez.  ‘So be it, then!’ ‘e sez, turnin’ t’ Kilbride, but th’ Inspector ’e sez nothin’:—­’e on’y larfs.  An’ then they went away.”

Redmond, giving vent to a delighted oath, came out of his sulks on the instant.

“Hardy!” he cried, “you’re a gentleman! . . .”

“Nay!” was the other’s disclaimer.  “A dranken oweld soweljer, son . . . that’s all.”

But Redmond heard him not.  With elbows resting upon the balcony-rail he was looking beyond the Elbow Bridge, beyond Shagnappi Point—­westwards to Davidsburg, his face registering the supreme content of a man who had just attained his heart’s desire.