pleasantry wi' a country wench!" The Major neither spoke nor altered his leisurely advance until, coming within striking distance, he leapt.

Heavy bludgeon whirled, long cane whizzed and the fellow, uttering a hoa.r.s.e gasp, dropped his weapon and gave back, clutching at useless, dangling limb. But the Major's long arm rose and fell, beating the man to his knees, to his face; even then, as the fellow writhed helpless, those merciless blows rained down tirelessly until a voice cried:

"Don't! Don't! Ah, Major John--you'll kill him!" The Major stepped back, panting a little.

"Kill him," he repeated gently, "why no, mam, no--his sort take a vast deal of killing. I would but give him such a--er--reminder as shall not fade awhile."

"Nay sir, no more, I beg! And see, your cane is broke----"

"Why so 'tis!" said the Major and tossing it aside he picked up the k.n.o.bby bludgeon, seeing which Lady Betty caught his arm and held it:

"Nay, you are cruel--cruel! You shall not, I say. He has enough!"

"Aye, perhaps he has," said the Major, "and 'twould be distressing for you of course, though when one must fight 'tis as well to be thorough."

Saying which he resettled his ruffles, tucked the bludgeon under his arm and bowed. "Pray let us be going, madam!" My lady hesitated and glanced at her a.s.sailant's prostrate figure. "A few bruises, mam, he will be well enough in an hour or so--though somewhat sore. And now, with your leave I'll see you out o' the wood, evening falls apace and the Sergeant was right, it seems." Then he picked up her basket and motioning her to lead the way, followed her through the wood.

For once in her twenty-two years of life my lady Betty felt herself at a disadvantage; twice she turned to speak but he, walking behind with head bowed, seemed utterly oblivious of her, wherefore she held her peace and threw up proud head disdainfully. And yet he had saved her and--from what? At this she shivered and disdain was forgotten. Still it is difficult to express grat.i.tude with proper dignity to a man upon a narrow, brier-set path especially when that man keeps himself perseveringly behind one. So my lady waited until they should be out of the hateful wood.

Thus they went in a silence unbroken until they came out in a bye-lane that gave upon the highway. Here, with the glory of the sunset all about her, she paused, quick-breathing, flushed and with witching eyes a-droop and reached out her hands to him; but the Major chanced to be looking just then at a tall gentleman lounging toward them down the shady lane.

"Yonder is Mr. Dalroyd, I think, madam," said the Major, "he shall relieve you of my presence," and into those pleading, outstretched hands he set--the basket.

My lady started away, her lips quivered and, blinded by sudden tears she turned and sped away.

So the Major limped homeward through the afterglow, quite unconscious of the ugly, k.n.o.bby bludgeon beneath his arm, his mind once more busied with the problem viewed from yet another aspect:

Question: Might it be possible that a true woman can be womanly no matter what she chance to wear?

CHAPTER XIV

SOME DESCRIPTION OF A KISS

Mrs. Agatha, gathering beans and aided by the Viscount's two valets, smiled and dimpled on each in turn while the Sergeant, busied in an adjacent corner with a ladder, cursed softly but with deep and sustained heartiness.

Mrs. Agatha's basket was three parts full and Sergeant Zebedee, having pretty well exhausted the English and French tongues, was vituperating grimly in Low Dutch, when a bell jangled distantly, a faint but determined summons, and immediately after, the Viscount's voice was heard near at hand and imperative:

"Arthur! Charles! Where a plague are the prepasterous dags! Oho, Charles! Arthur!"

The two valets, galvanised to action exceeding swift, started, saluted Mrs. Agatha and betook themselves within doors at commendable speed, and the Sergeant, having at last juggled his ladder into position, vituperated them out of sight and was in the act of mounting when he was aware of Mrs. Agatha at his elbow.

"'Tis surely a lovely day, Sergeant!" said she demurely.

"Is it so, mam?"

"Well, isn't it?"

"Why mam, I ain't had doo time to notice same, d'ye see. But, since you ax me I say no, mam, 'tis a dam--no, a cur--no, a plaguy hot day."

Saying which, the Sergeant rolled snowy shirt-sleeve a little higher above a remarkably hairy and muscular arm and mounted one rung of the ladder.

"The house do be very--gay these days, Sergeant."

"O mam! And why?"

"Well, since Viscount Merivale came with his two gentlemen."

"His two what, mam? Meaning who, mam?"

"Lud, Sergeant, his gentlemen for sure, Mr. Arthur and Mr. Charles--so polite, so witty and they never swear!" The Sergeant snorted. "One can never be dull in their company. Mr. Charles has such a flow of talk and Mr. Arthur is a perfect mine of anecdote, ha'n't you noticed?"

"Why no, mam. The only mines as I'm acquainted with is the kind that explodes."

"But indeed, Sergeant, everything seems changing for the better--take his honour the Major, see how young he looks in his fine things--aye, as young as his nephew and handsomer. And now 'tis your turn to change----"

"I ain't given to change, mam."

"A frill to your shirt, say, and your wig powdered----"

"Frills, mam--never! And I haven't powdered my wig since we quit soldiering, why should I? What's a man of forty-three want to go a-powdering of his wig for? Frills, mam? Powder, mam? Now what I say to that is----"

"Ha' done, Sergeant!"

"Very good, mam! Only I leave frills and powder and such to young fly-b'-nights----"

"Powder, and frills, and ruffles at your wrists, Sergeant----"

"And talkin' o' fly-b'-nights, mam, brings me to a question I wish to ax you and meant to ax you afore."

"A--a question, Sergeant?" she repeated faintly, beginning to trace out a pattern on the path with the toe of her neat shoe.

"As I want you to answer prompt, mam, aye or no."

"Very well, Sergeant," said she, fainter than before. "I'm listening."

"D'ye sleep well o' nights, mam?"

Mrs. Agatha started, glanced up swiftly and, for no apparent reason, blushed very red under the Sergeant's direct gaze.

"Lud, Sergeant Zebedee, what's that to do with it--I mean----"

"Everything, mam!"

"And why shouldn't I sleep? I've no bad conscience to wake me, thank G.o.d."

"Then ye do sleep well?"

"Ye-es!"