sews on his own buttons is a disgrace to his sex," she answered.

"But how if he have no woman to do it for him?"

"He should be a man and—get one."

"Hum!" said the Major thoughtfully, "a needle is a sharp engine and apt to prick one occasionally 'tis true, and yet a man may prefer it to a woman."

"And you," she exclaimed, drooping disdainful lashes, "you—are a—soldier!"

"I was!" he answered.

"Soldiers are gallant, they say."

"They are kind!" bowed the Major.

"You are, I think, the poor, old, wounded soldier Major d'Arcy who lives at the Manor yonder?" she questioned.

"I am that shattered wreck, madam, and what remains of me is very humbly at your service!" and setting hand to bosom of war-worn coat he bowed with a prodigious flourish.

"And you have never been so extreme fortunate as to behold my Lady Elizabeth Carlyon?"

"Hum!" said the Major, pondering, "what like is she?"

At this slender hands clasped each other, dark eyes upturned themselves to translucent heaven and rounded bosom heaved ecstatic:

"O sir, she is extreme beautiful, 'tis said! She is a toast adored! She is seen but to be worshipped! She hath wit, beauty and a thousand accomplishments! She hath such an air! Such a killing droop of the eyelash! She is—O, she is irresistible!"

"Indeed," said the Major, glancing up into the beautiful face above, "the description is just, though something too limited, perhaps."

The eyes came back to earth and the Major in a flash:

"Then you have seen her, sir?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then describe her—come!"

"Why, she is, I judge, neither too short nor too tall!"

"True!" nodded the apparition, gently acquiescent.

"Of a delicate slimness——"

"True—O, most true, sir!"

"Yet sufficiently—er—full and rounded!"

The dark eyes were veiled suddenly by down-drooping lashes:

"You think so, sir?"

"Hair night-black, a chin well-determined and bravely dimpled—

"It hath been remarked before, sir!"

"Rosy lips——"

"Fie, sir, 'tis a vulgar phrase and trite. I suggest instead rose-petals steeped in dew."

"A nose——"

"Indeed, sir?"

"Neither arched nor straight and eyes—eyes——" the Major hesitated, stammered and came to an abrupt pause.

"And what of her eyes, sir? I have heard them called dreamy lakes, starry pools and unfathomable deeps, ere now. What d'you make of them?"

But the Major's own eyes were lowered, his bronzed cheek showed an unwonted flush and his sinewy fingers were fumbling with one of his loose coat-buttons.

"Nought!" said he at last, "others methinks have described 'em better than ever I could."

"Major d'Arcy," said the voice softer and sweeter than ever, "I grieve to tell you your wig is more over one eye than ever. And as for your old coat, some fine day, sir, an you chance to walk hereabouts I may possibly trouble to show you how a woman sews a button on!"

Saying which the apparition vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

The Major stood awhile deep-plunged in reverie, then setting the crabtree staff beneath his arm he wended his way slowly towards the house, limping a little more than usual as he always did when much preoccupied.

On his way he chanced upon the Sergeant wandering somewhat aimlessly with a hammer in his hand.

"Sergeant," said he slowly, "er—Zebedee—if any more cherries—should happen to—er—go astray—vanish——"

"Or be stole, sir!" added the Sergeant.

"Exactly, Zeb, precisely,—if such a contingency should arise you will—er——"

"Challenge three times, sir and then—"

"Er—no, Sergeant, no! I think, under the circumstances, Zeb, we'll just—er—let 'em—ah—vanish, d'ye see!"

Then the Major limped slowly and serenely into the house and left the Sergeant staring at the hammer in his hand with eyes very wide and round.

"Ventre bleu! Sacré bleu! Zookers!" said he.

CHAPTER III

WHICH TELLS HOW THE MAJOR CLIMBED A WALL

A wonderfully pleasant place was the Major's orchard, very retired and secluded by reason of its high old walls flushing rosily through green leaves; an orchard, this, full of ancient trees gnarled and crooked whose writhen boughs sprawled and twisted; an orchard carpeted with velvety turf whereon plump thrushes and blackbirds hopped and waddled, or, perched aloft, filled the sunny air with rich, throaty warblings and fluty trills and flourishes. Here Sergeant Tring, ever a man of his hands, had contrived and built a rustic arbour (its architecture faintly suggestive of a rabbit-hutch and a sentry-box) of which he was justly proud.

Now Major d'Arcy despite his many battles had an inborn love of peace and quietness, of the soft rustle of wind in leaves, of sunshine and the mellow pipe of thrush and blackbird, hence it was not at all surprising that he should develop a sudden fancy for strolling, to and fro in his orchard of a sunny afternoon, book in hand, or, sitting in the Sergeant's hutch-like sentry-box, puff dreamily at pipe of clay, or again, tucking up his ruffles and squaring his elbows, fall to work on his History of Fortification; and if his glance happened to rove from printed page or busy quill in a certain direction, what of it? Though it was to be remarked that his full-flowing peruke was seldom askew and the lace of his cravat and the ruffles below the huge cuffs of his Ramillie coat were of the finest point.

It was a hot afternoon, very slumberous and still; flowers drooped languid heads, birds twittered sleepily, butterflies wheeled and hovered, and the Major, sitting in the shady arbour, stared at a certain part of the old wall, sighed, and taking up his pipe began to fill it absently, his gaze yet fixed. All at once he sprang up, radiant-eyed, and strode across the smooth grass.

The faded sun-bonnet was not; her black hair was coiled high, while at white brow and glowing cheek silken curls wantoned in an artful disorder, moreover her simple russet gown had given place to a rich, flowered satin. All this he noticed at a glance though his gaze never wandered from the witching eyes of her. Were they blue or black or dark brown?

"Sir," said she, acknowledging his deep reverence with a stately inclination of her shapely head, "I would curtsey if I might, but to curtsey on a ladder were dangerous and not to be lightly undertaken."

Quoth the Major:

"It has been a long time—a very long time since you—since I—er—that is—

"Exactly five days, sir!"

"Why—ah—to be sure these summer days do grow uncommon long, mam—

"Which means, sir, that you've wanted me?"

The Major started:

"Why er—-I—indeed I—I hardly know!" he stammered.

"Which proves it beyond all doubt!" she nodded serenely.

The Major was silent.

"Then, sir," she continued gravely, "since 'tis beyond all doubt you wanted me and hither came daily to look for me, as methinks you did—-?"

Here she paused expectant, whereupon the Major stooped to survey his neat shoe-buckle.

"Well, sir, did you not come patiently a-seeking me here?"

"Why, mam," he answered, rubbing his chin with his pipe-stem, "'tis true I came hither—having a fancy for——"

"Then, sir, since being hither come you found me not, why, having legs, didn't you climb over the wall and seek me where you might have found me?"

The Major caught his breath and nearly dropped his pipe.

"Indeed it never occurred to me!"

"To be sure the climbing of walls is an infinite trying and arduous task for—ancient limbs," she sighed, shaking her head, "yet—even you, might have achieved it—with care."

The Major laughed:

"'Tis possible, mam," said he.

"And it never occurred to you?"

"No indeed, mam, and never