"What are you doing in here, you--scaramouch? Didn't I tell you to lie
still? Here he is, Larpent! What do you think of him? A poor sort of
specimen, eh?"

"What's his name?" said Larpent.

"Toby Barnes, sir," supplied the boy promptly.

"And there's nothing under the sun he can't do except drive cars," put in
Saltash, "and obey orders."

Toby winced a little. "I'm sorry, sir. Only wanted to be useful, sir.
I'll go back to bed if you say so."

"What do you say, Captain?" said Saltash.

Larpent bent and looked closely at the injured eye. "The sooner the
better," he said after a brief examination. "Stay in bed for a week, and
then I'll look at you again!"

"Oh, not a week!" exclaimed Toby, aghast, and then clapped a hand to his
mouth and was silent.

But his look implored Saltash who laughed and pinched the shoulder under
his hand. "All right. We'll see how you get on. If we meet any weather
you'll probably be only too thankful to stay there."

Toby smiled somewhat woefully, and said nothing.

Larpent stood up. "I'll fetch some stuff to dress it with. Better have it