"Name!" chorused the others, "Name!"

But, at this juncture the door opened and a man entered rather hastily: his dress was sedate, his air was sedate, indeed he seemed sedateness personified, though the Sergeant, scowling at him over his tankard, thought his eyes a little too close together. He was evidently held in much esteem by the company for his entrance was hailed with acclaim:

"What, Joe! Joey--ha, Joseph," cried the pompous Josh, "you do come pat, sir, pat--we'm just a-discussing of the s.e.x--Gad bless 'em!"

"Dear creeters!" added Horace, fingering his long nose.

"Woman--divine Woman for ever!" said Joseph, "Woman, sirs, man's joy and curse, his woe and consolation!"

"Sweet creeters!" added Horace. "But William here tells us of a rural beauty--a peach and a Va.n.u.s as you and him's got your peepers on, Joe, so we, being all friends and jolly dogs, demands the fair one's name."

"One minute and I'm with you," answered the sedate and obsequious Joseph, "business first, pleasure after!" So saying he beckoned to a man who had followed him in from the road, a tall dark, gipsy-looking fellow at sight of whom the Sergeant clenched his fists and murmured "Zounds!" The obsequious Joe having brought the fellow into an adjacent corner remote from the noisy company, broke into soft but fierce speech:

"So you'll follow me--even here, will you?"

"Why for sure, Nick, for sure I'll follow you to----"

"My name's Joe, curse you!"

"Then 'Joe' we'll make it, Nick. And I foller ye for the sake o' past merry days, Joey, and--a guinea now and then, pal."

The Sergeant, who had risen, sat down again.

"Blackmail, eh?" snarled Joseph.

"Don't go for to be 'arsh, Joey lad--a guinea, come! Or shall I ax 'ee, here afore your fine pals to pipe us a chaunt o' the High Toby----"

"Hold your dirty tongue you----"

"A guinea, pal--say a guinea, come!"

"Take it and be d.a.m.ned!"

"Thank 'ee kindly, Joey, and mind this--now as ever I'm your man if you should want anyone----" here the fellow made an ugly motion with his thumb, nodded, winked, and crossing to the door, took himself off.

Sergeant Zebedee was about to follow when he checked himself and clenched his fists again.

"Begins with a A and ends with another A?" cried one of the company.

"Question remains--who, Joey, who? Speak up, Joseph."

The sedate Joseph had crossed to his companions and now stood glancing sedately round the merry circle.

"Well, since you ask," he answered, "who should it be but Mistress Agatha--pretty Mrs. Agatha at the Manor House."

The Sergeant's nostrils widened suddenly and his grim jaws closed with a snap.

"Such a shape!" repeated the languid William. "Such a waist! Such dem'd, see-doocing, roguish eyes, begad!"

"Ah, and she knows it too!" piped Horace, "not a civil word for e'er a one on us, let alone a kiss or a sly squeeze! And why----?"

"Because," drawled Joseph, shaking sleek head, "because--since you ask me, I answer you as she is meat for her betters--her master, belike--the Major with the game leg--Squire d'Arcy of the Manor."

The Sergeant glanced into his tankard, found therein a few frothy drops, spilled them carefully upon the floor and hurled the empty vessel at the last speaker. Fortunately for himself the discreet Joseph moved at that moment and the heavy missile, hurtling past his ear, caught the long-nosed Horace in the waistcoat and floored him.

Whirling about, Joseph was amazed to see the Sergeant advancing swiftly and with evident intent, and the next moment all was riot and uproar.

Over crashed the table, chairs and their occupants were scattered right and left and there rose a cloud of dust that grew ever thicker wherein two forms, fiercely-grappled, writhed and smote and twisted.

And, after some while, the dust subsiding a little, the startled company beheld Sergeant Zebedee Tring sitting astride his antagonist who writhed feebly and groaned fitfully. Seated thus the Sergeant proceeded to re-settle his neat wig which had shed much of its powder, to tuck up his ruffles and to dust the marks of combat from his garments; having done which to his satisfaction and recovered his wind meantime, he addressed the gaping company.

"One o' you sons o' dirt bring me my hat!" The article in question being promptly handed to him, he put it on, with due care for the curls of his wig and glared round upon each of the spectators in turn:

"Now if," said he at last, "if there's any other vermin-rogue has got aught to say agin his betters, two in particular, I shall be happy to tear his liver out and kick same through winder! Is there now?"

Ensued a silence broken only by a faint groaning from the obsequious Joe; whereupon the Sergeant proceeded:

"You will all o' you notice as I'm sitting on this here piece o' filth as is shaped like a man--I don't like to, but I do it because he won't stand up and fight, if he would--ah, if he only would, I'd have his liver so quick as never was, d'ye see, because he spoke dirt regarding two o' the sweetest, n.o.blest folk as brightens this here dark world.

Further and moreover I, now a-sitting on this piece o' rottenness, do give warning doo--warning to all and sundry, to each and every--that if ever a one o' you says the like again--ah, or whispers same, in my hearing or out, that man's liver is going to be took out and throwed on the nearest dung-hill where same belongs. Finally and lastly, if there's ever a one o' you as feels inclined to argufy the point let him now speak or for ever hold his peace and be d.a.m.ned! Is there now?"

As no one breathed a word, the Sergeant sighed, rose from the moaning Joseph and, crossing the room, picked up his battered tankard and shook gloomy head over it; then, handing it to the round-eyed landlord, sighed again:

"That'll be the second tankard I shall ha' paid for in the last six weeks, Jem," said he, "I do seem oncommon misfort'nate with pewter-ware!"

So saying, he nodded and turning his back on the silent and chastened company, marched blithely homeward.

Now presently as he went, he was surprised to see the Major, who stood beside the way, his hands crossed upon his crab-tree staff, his laced hat a little askew, his grey eyes staring very hard at a weatherbeaten stile. As the Sergeant drew near, he started, and lifting his gaze, nodded.

"Ha, Zeb," said he, thoughtfully, "I'm faced with a problem of no small magnitude, Zeb--a question of no little difficulty!" and he became lost in contemplation of a lark carolling high overhead.

"Nothing serious I hope, your honour?"

"Serious, why--no Zeb, no. And yet 'tis a matter demanding a nice judgment, a--er--a reasoned deliberation, as 'twere."

"Certainly, sir!"

"Yet for the life of me I can come to no decision for one of 'em is much like t'other after all save for colour, d'ye see, Zeb, and serve the same purpose. Yet to-morrow--to-morrow I would look my very best and--er--youngest as 'twere, Zeb."

"Meaning which and who, sir--how and where, your honour?"

"Come and see, Zeb."

Herewith the Major turned and strode away, the Sergeant marching exactly two paces in his rear and without another word until, reaching the study in due course, the Major carefully closed the door and pointed with his crab-tree staff to some half-dozen of his new suits of clothes disposed advantageously on table and chairs.

"There they are, Zeb," said he, "though egad, now I look at 'em again they don't seem exactly right, somehow----"

"Why, sir, you've only got 'em mixed up a bit--this here dove-coloured coat goes wi' these here breeches and vicey-versey--this mulberry velvet wi'--

"Aye, to be sure, Zeb, to be sure. Now I see 'em so, I rather think we'll make it the mulberry, though to be sure the pearl-grey hath its merits--hum! We must deliberate, Zeb! 'Twill be either the mulberry or the grey or the blue and silver or t'other with the embroidery or--hum! 'Tis a problem, Zeb, a problem--we must think--a council of war!"

"Aye, sir!" answered the Sergeant, staring.