"You see, Martin," explained Angle coolly, "I must find out how Jim Bates and Tommy Beadlam always get hold of you without other people being the wiser. Show me the lane and the paddock they tell me of."

"I don't see why it should interest you," was the ungracious reply.

"You dear boy! Are you angry yet because I wouldn't let you kiss me the other night?"

He was compelled to laugh at the outrageous untruth.

"I'm afraid I spoke very crossly then," he admitted, thinking it best to avoid argument.

"Oh, yes. I wept for hours. My poor little eyes were sore yesterday.

Look and see if they are red now."

They were standing behind the woodpile. She thrust her face temptingly near. Her beautiful eyes, clear and limpid in their dark depths, blinked saucily. Her parted lips revealed two rows of white, even teeth, and her sweet breath mingled with the fragrance that always clung to her garments. He experienced a new timidity now; he was afraid of her in this mood, though secretly flattered by the homage she was paying.

"Martin," she whispered, "I like you better than any of the other boys, oh, a great deal better, even though Evelyn Atkinson does say you are a milksop."

What a hateful word to apply to one whose flesh was scarred by the claws of an infuriated wildcat conquered in fair fight. Milksop, indeed! He knew Angle's ways well enough by this time to give convincing proof that he was no milksop.

He placed his bandaged right arm around her waist, boldly drew her toward him, and kissed her three times--on the lips.

"That is more than I ever did to Evelyn Atkinson," he said.

She returned the embrace with ardor.

"Oh, Martin, I do love you," she sighed. "And you fought for me as well as for Elsie, didn't you?"

If the thought were grateful to Angle, it stung the boy's conscience.

Under what different circ.u.mstances had he defended the two girls! He grew scarlet with confusion and sought to unclasp those twining arms.

"Someone may see us," he protested.

"I don't care," she cooed. "Tommy Beadlam is watching us now over the hedge. Tell him to go away."

He wrenched himself free. True enough, "White Head" was gazing at them, eyes and mouth wide open.

"h.e.l.lo, Tommy!" shouted Martin.

"By gum!" gasped Tommy.

But the spell was broken, and the three joined company to make a tour of the farm. Angle was quite unembarra.s.sed and promptly rescued both boys from sheepishness. She knew that the observant "White Head" would harrow Evelyn Atkinson's soul with a full description of the tender episode behind the big pile of wood. This pleased her more than Martin's gruff "spooning."

Inside the farmhouse conversation progressed vigorously. Mrs. Saumarez joined in the talk with zest. The quaint gossip of the women interested her. She learnt, seemingly with surprise, that these, her humble sisters, were swayed by emotions near akin to her own. Some quiet chronicle of a mother's loss by the death of a soldier son in far-off South Africa touched a dormant chord in her heart.

"My husband was killed in that foolish war," she said. "I never think of it without a shudder."

"I reckon he'd be an officer, ma'am," said Martha.

"Yes; he was shot while leading his regiment in a cavalry charge at the Modder River."

"It's a dreadful thing, is war," observed the bereaved mother. "My lad wouldn't hurt a fly, yet his capt'in wrote such a nice letter, sayin' as how Willie had killed four Boers afore he was struck down. T' capt'in meant it kindly, no doot, but it gev me small consolation."

"It is the wives and mothers who suffer most. Men like the army. I suppose if my child were a boy he would enter the service."

"Thank the Lord, Martin won't be a sojer!" cried Martha fervently.

"You're going to make him a minister, are you not?"

"Noa," said John Bolland's deep voice from the door. "He's goin' to college. I've settled it to-day."

None present appreciated the force of this statement like Martha, and she resented such a momentous decision being arrived at without her knowledge. Her head bent, and twitching fingers sought the ends of her ap.r.o.n. John strode ponderously forward and placed a huge hand on her shoulder.

"Dinnat be vexed, Martha," he said gently. "I hadn't a chance te speak wi' ye sen Dr. MacGregor an' me had a bit crack about t' lad. I didn't need te coom te you for counsel. Who knew better'n me that yer heart was set on Martin bein' browt up a gentleman?"

This recognition of motherly rights somewhat mollified his wife.

"Eh, but I'm main pleased, John," she said. "Yet I'll be sorry to lose him."

"Ye'll wear yer knuckles te t' bone makkin' him fine shirts an' fallals, all t' same," laughed her husband.

Mrs. Saumarez had seen the glint of tears in Mrs. Bolland's eyes, and came to the rescue with a request for a second cup of tea.

"England is fortunate in being an island," she said. "Now, in my native land every man has to serve in the army. It cannot be avoided, you know.

Germany has France on the one hand and Russia on the other, each ready to spring if she relaxes her vigilance for a moment."

"Is that so?" inquired Bolland. "I wunner why?"

The lady smiled.

"That is a wide political question," she replied. "To give one reason out of many, look at our--at Germany's thousand miles of open frontier."

"Right enough, ma'am. But why is Jarmany buildin' such a big fleet?"

Mrs. Saumarez raised her lorgnette. She had not expected so apt a retort.

"She is gathering colonies, and already owns a huge mercantile marine.

Surely, these interests call for adequate protection?"

"n.o.body's threatenin' 'em, so far as I can see," persisted Bolland.

"Not at present. But a wise government looks ahead of the hour.

Germany's aim is to educate the world by her culture. She is doing it already, as any of your own well-informed leading men will tell you; but the time may come when, in her zeal for advancement, she may tread on somebody's toes, so she must be prepared, both on land and sea.

Fortunately, this is the one country she will never attack."

John shook his head.

"I'm none so sure," he said slowly. "I hevn't much time fer readin', but I did happen t' other day on a speech by Lord Roberts which med me scrat me head. Beg pardon, ma'am. I mean it med me think."

"Lord Roberts!" began the lady scornfully. Then she sipped her tea, and the pause gave time to collect her wits. "You must remember that he is a professional soldier, and his views are tainted by militarism."