, and that this sad
war had made no gap in her friend's large and happy home circle.

"But she's a noble, unselfish woman," sobbed Mrs. Johnson, "and she
taught Jackanapes to be the same, and that's how it is that my Tony has
been spared to me. And it must be sheer goodness in Miss Jessamine, for
what can she know of a mother's feelings? And I'm sure most people seem
to think that if you've a large family you don't know one from another
any more than they do, and that a lot of children are like a lot of
store-apples, if one's taken it won't be missed."

Lollo--the first Lollo, the Gipsy's Lollo--very aged, draws Miss
Jessamine's bath-chair slowly up and down the Goose Green in the
sunshine.

The Ex-postman walks beside him, which Lollo tolerates to the level of
his shoulder. If the Postman advances any nearer to his head, Lollo
quickens his pace, and were the Postman to persist in the injudicious
attempt, there is, as Miss Jessamine says, no knowing what might happen.

In the opinion of the Goose Green, Miss Jessamine has borne her troubles
"wonderfully." Indeed, to-day, some of the less delicate and less
intimate of those who see everything from the upper windows, say (well
behind her back) that "the old lady seems quite lively with her military
beaux again."

[Illustration]

The meaning of this is, that Captain Johnson is leaning over one side of
her chair, whilst by the other bends a brother officer who is staying
with him, and who has manifested an extraordinary interest in Lollo. He
bends lower and lower, and Miss Jessamine calls to the Postman to
request Lollo to be kind enough to stop, whilst she is fumbling for
something which always hangs by her side, and has got entangled with her
spectacles.

It is a two-penny trumpet, bought years ago in the village fair, and
over it she and Captain Johnson tell, as best they can, between them,
the story of Jackanapes' ride across the Goose Green; and how he won
Lollo--the Gipsy's Lollo--the racer Lollo--dear Lollo--faithful
Lollo--Lollo the never vanquished--Lollo the tender servant of his old
mistress. And Lollo's ears twitch at every mention of his name.

Their hearer does not speak, but he never moves his eyes from the
trumpet, and when the tale is told, he lifts Miss Jessamine's hand and
presses his heavy black moustache in silence to her trembling fingers.

The sun, betting gently to his rest, embroiders the sombre foliage of
the oak-tree with threads of gol