"Yes."

"But ya' never wore look so doleful--never such a d.a.m.ned dumb-dog, suffer-and-smite me air--not then, Jack--not in those days and ya' were generally nursing some wound or other."

"I was younger then!" sighed the Major.

"Pah!" exclaimed the Colonel scattering a pinch of snuff in his vehemence, "I say pish, man--tush and the devil! Ya' younger these days than ever ya' were--all ya' need to become a very youth is a petticoat--take your old comrade's advice and marry one."

"Never!" exclaimed the Major, clenching his fists.

"Tush!" exclaimed the Colonel, snuffing. "As ya' friend, Jack, 'tis my duty to see ya' happily married and I'll be d.a.m.ned if I don't. Wedlock 'twixt man and woman is--is--ah, is well, marriage. There's little Mrs. Wadhurst over at Sevenoaks--a shape, Jack, an eye and a curst alluring nose. Hast ever noticed her nose?"

"No!" snarled the Major.

"Ha!" sighed the Colonel. "Not to ya' taste, belike. Why then there's Lady Lydia Flyte--a widow, Jack--another neighbour--a comely piece, man, bright eyes, wealthy and sufficiently plump----"

"Ha' done!" snapped the Major, puffing smoke.

"Dooce take ya'!" snarled the Colonel, scattering snuff. "Begad, man Jack, ya' d.a.m.ned peevish and contrary, y'are 'pon my life! If I wasn't the most patient, long-suffering, meek and mild soul i' the world I should be inclined to lose my temper over ya' d.a.m.ned stubbornness--rot me, I should!" At this the Major chuckled..

"Your meekness, George, hath ever been equalled only by your humility!"

said he.

"Nay, but man Jack, look'ee now--'tis not that I would ram my own happiness down thy throat, but to see thee so glum and spiritless, damps my own joy doocedly. And the word glum brings us back to petticoats."

"Nay George, for mercy's sake no more----"

"But comrade, a petticoat should be--ah--should be, a petticoat is--is a--ha!"

At this moment was a knock and, the door opening, the Sergeant advanced two paces and stood at attention:

"Your honour," said he.

"Ha, Zeb," exclaimed the Colonel, fixing him with fierce, blue eye, "ho, Sergeant Zeb, what the dooce is a petticoat?"

The Sergeant stared at his lordship, stared at the ceiling, scratched smooth-shaven chin with thoughtful finger and spoke.

"A petticoat, m' lud, is a article as a woman can't very well go without and a man shouldn't--and won't!"

The Colonel set down his gla.s.s, threw back his head and roared with laughter till he stamped. "Aha--oho!" he cried at last, sprinkling snuff over himself and everything within reach. "O Gad, Zeb, ya'

right, ya' right--must remember that. D'ya hear that, Jack--oho--aha!"

And he roared again while the Major smiled, chuckled, and despite rib and bandages, laughed until Sergeant Zebedee anxiously bade him have a care, and announced that Sir Benjamin Tripp, Lord Alvaston, Mr.

Marchdale, Sir Jasper and Captain West had ridden over to see him and enquire after his health.

"Why then let 'em in, Zeb--let 'em in," said the Major a little breathlessly, "and bring up a half-dozen or so of the yellow seal----"

"The yellow--ha!" sighed the Colonel, "if the same as last time 'tis bottled sunshine, 'twill warm the very c.o.c.kles o' ya' heart, man----"

"Nay, George----"

"Tush, Jack--an you don't drink, I don't----"

"But George----"

"Pish, Jack! You'll never go for to deny ya' old friend?" Here the door opened and the company entered with a prodigious waving of hats, flirting of gold-mounted whips and jingling of spurs.

"Major d'Arcy, sir!" cried Sir Benjamin, "your very devoted, humble servant. My lord, yours! Ods my life, my dear Major d'Arcy, I joy to see you no worse, sir, after your desperate battle with nine bloodthirsty ruffians----"

"Four, Sir Benjamin----"

"Common report, sir, makes 'em twelve but I'm a.s.sured they were but nine----"

"Sir, they were but four," repeated the Major gently. "But gentlemen, you have lost one of your number--Mr. Dalroyd is gone, I understand?"

"Faith and so he has, sir," answered Mr. Marchdale petulantly, "clean gone and with eight hundred guineas o' mine and more of Alvaston's, not to mention----"

"But then we never had 'ny luck wi' th' cards, Tony," yawned his lordship.

"Luck!" spluttered Mr. Marchdale, "luck, d'ye call it----"

"Ahem!" exclaimed Sir Benjamin. "'Tis true Dalroyd is gone, sir, and suddenly, nor will I disguise the fact that his ahem!--his departure was in some sort a relief considering the deplorable scene 'twixt him and Viscount Merivale----"

"And his curst secret ways," added Mr. Marchdale, "and his treatment of that fellow of his--Dalroyd's room was next mine and I know he's beaten the poor rogue d.a.m.nably more than once of late."

"Haw--that's true enough!" exclaimed Captain West, "heard the miserable dog myself. Dismally a-groaning a-nights. More than once, haw!"

"And yesterday, just as he mounts to ride away Dalroyd must fall a-kicking the fellow--in the open street and with us standing by! And kicked him, look you, not as a gentleman should but with such vicious pleasure in it--faith, 'twas positively indecent!"

"Od's life, sir, and that's true--indecent is the word!" nodded Sir Benjamin tapping his snuff-box, "and gentlemen, if the human optic, basilisk-like, could blast soul and wither flesh--Dalroyd would have hem! I say would have known--ha--would have made a sufficiently uncomfortable not to say painful exit--or setting forth the matter in plainer terms Dalroyd hem----"

"Hold hard, Ben!" yawned Alvaston. "Y' gettin' lost again. What our Ben wants t' say 's simply Dalroyd's f'low looked b.l.o.o.d.y murder 'n so he did."

"Ha--begad! He did so!"

"Dalroyd is well enough enjoyed now and then," said Mr. Marchdale sententiously, "but as a constant diet is apt to become devilish indigestible! And as regards his unfailing lack with the cards, I shouldn't wonder----"

"Then don't, Tony--don't!" murmured Lord Alvaston, crossing his slender legs. "Dalroyd may be this, that or t'other, but Dalroyd ain't here--enough of him."

"Aye, true," nodded Sir Benjamin, "true indeed, Dalroyd is gone and we, dear Major, like this year's roses, are going too. In a week sir, this fraternity amorous will suffer disruption, our lady hath so decreed, the fiat hath gone forth."

"Indeed sir, you surprise me!" said the Major, glancing from one to another, "whence comes this?"

Here Sir Benjamin shook his head and sighed, Sir Jasper stifled a groan, Mr. Marchdale swore beneath his breath, the Captain uttered a feeble "Haw" and Lord Alvaston whistled dolefully.

"Sir," sighed Sir Benjamin, "you behold in us a band of woeful wooers each alike condemned to sigh, and yet to sigh in unison and in this, the measure of our woe doth find some small abatement. Each hath wooed and each hath proved his wooing vain, his dreams, his visions must remain but--hem!--but dreams and----"

"Hold on, Ben," murmured Alvaston, "burn me but y're gettin' int' th'

weeds again! What poor old Ben's strivin' t' say 's simply that----"