eport to the
officer that we are refused admission to this house."

Private Beggs turned to obey the order. The officer in charge of the
party came out of the door of a house half-way along the side of the
square. Mrs. O'Halloran recognised him. It was Second Lieutenant Harry
Devereux.

"Master Harry," she called, "Master Harry, come here at once. Is it you
that's been raising ructions about the square? Shooting and destroying
and frightening decent people into fits? Faith, I might have known it
was you. If there's divilment going you'd be in it."

Harry Devereux, intensely conscious of his responsibility as commander
of men in a real fight, reached the bottom of the steps which led to his
aunt's door.

"Enter the house, sergeant," he said, "and search it."

Mrs. O'Halloran stood right in the middle of the doorway. The sergeant
looked at her doubtfully and hesitated.

"Come up out of that, Master Harry," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "and don't
be trying to hide behind the sergeant. It's no wonder you're ashamed of
yourself, but I see you plain enough. Come here now till I talk to you."

The sergeant grinned. Private Beggs, who was behind his officer, laughed
openly.

"Was there nowhere else in the world for you to have a battle--if a
battle was what you wanted," said Mrs. O'Halloran, "only in front of
your aunt's house? Many and many's the time I've smacked you for less
than what you've done to-day. Isn't there bullets in her ladyship's
morning-room? Isn't there a grand looking-glass in a gold frame gone to
smithers with your shooting? Isn't Molly and the other girls screeching
this minute down in the coal cellar, for fear you'll kill them, and now
nothing will do you seemingly only to be tramping all over the house.
Search it, moya, search it! But you'll not be let, Master Harry; neither
you nor the sergeant nor any of the rest of you."

Second Lieutenant Harry Devereux pulled himself together and made an
effort to save what was left of his dignity. He had led his men across
the square under a shower of rebel bullets from the roofs of the houses.
He had taken cool advantage of all possible cover. He had directed his
men's fire till he drove the rebels from their shelters. No one could
say of him that he was other than a gallant officer. But his heart
failed him when he was face to face with his aunt's cook.

"I think we needn't search this house, sergeant," he said. "I know it."

"If you'd like to come back in an