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The rain had given over; and, who should I see in the court-yard, but Mr. Begbie, the gardener, waiting outside to continue the dog-rose controversy with Sergeant Cuff. "My compliments to the Sairgent," said Mr. Begbie, the moment he set eyes on me. "If he's minded to walk to the station, I'm agreeable to go with him." "What!" cries the Sergeant, behind me, "are you not convinced yet?"
"Nothing like so good," said John Broom, sincerely. "And what d'ye suppose, man," said the Highlander, firing with sudden passion, till the light of his clear blue eyes seemed to pierce John Broom's very soul "what d'ye suppose has hindered me that I'm not sairgent, when yon man is?
"I never counted," said John Broom; "pretty often." "How many good-conduct stripes do you ken me to have lost of your ain knowledge?" "Three, M'Alister." "Is there a finer man than me in the regiment?" asked the Highlander, drawing up his head. "That there's not," said John Broom, warmly. "Our sairgent, now," drawled the Scotchman, "wad ye say he was a better man than me?"
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