ve him his flute," said Wilkins, shortly.  "Don't you go abusing our
band instruments again, young man, or you'll be finding yourself sent
back to the ranks.  Now, please, we're losing time."

And so the practice went on Dick, feeling that he was making enemies all
round till, about an hour after, when he was in the long-room, and half
a dozen of the bandsmen came in together, looked at him, then at one
another, and one of them said--

"I'm glad you've joined."

"We've been thinking it over, and we're going to see if we can't work up
some better music now.  Never you mind about Wilkins; his bark's worse
than his bite."

"And he likes to show off," said another.  "Wants people to think what a
clever one he is.  We'll have some quiet practices together, if you
like."

"I shall be very glad," said Dick eagerly.

"That's right, and you can give us a few hints.  Wilkins turned nasty
through that snubbing he got over yonder, at the mess-room, but he'll
soon come round.  I'm sorry, though, about old Jones."

"So am I," cried Dick; "I quite felt for him this afternoon."

"Yes, he never ought to have been put to music.  I hope he won't turn
nasty," said the first speaker, "for he's got a temper of his own.  But,
there, you needn't mind him."

"No," thought Dick, "I need not mind him; but I don't like making
enemies, all the same."



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

DICK FINDS A PUPIL.

"No one would know me now," said the recruit to himself one morning as
he glanced at his face in a piece of looking-glass, for the military
barber had been operating upon his head, and had--as the _Punch_ man
said in the hot weather in allusion to his hair--"cut it to the bone."

For the first time Richard Frayne dressed in his tightly-fitting, stiff
uniform.

"Hallo, Flutey!" said one of the men; "I was looking for you.  Got 'em
on, then?"

"Yes," said Dick, smiling.  "Do they fit?"

"Oh, yes, pretty tidy.  Feel all right?"

"No; I don't think I can get my hand up level with my mouth, and the
tunic feels as if it would split up the back, and the button