e paragraphs of his lecture on the sheep
industry, had been extremely solicitous of obtaining for a favour. 'Twas a
satisfaction to me that my rustic friend departed without it. He was no
sooner gone than I came near and perched myself on the arm of a chair
beside the girl. For a minute I sat watching in silence the deft movements
of the firm brown hands in which were both delicacy and power.

Then, "For Malcolm?" I asked.

"No-o."

"For whom then?"

"For a brave gentleman who iss marching south with the Prince--a kind
friend of mine."

"You seem to have many of them. For which one is the favour?" I queried, a
little bitterly.

She looked at me askance, demure yet whimsical.

"You will can tell when you see him wearing it."

I fell sulky, at the which mirth bubbled up in her.

"Is he as good a friend as I am, this fine lover of yours?" I asked.

"Every whit." Mockery of my sullenness danced in her blue eyes.

"And do you--like him as well?" I blurted out, face flaming.

She nodded yes, gaily, without the least sentiment in the world.

I flung away in a pet. "You're always laughing at me. By Heaven, I won't
be made a fool of by any girl!"

The corners of her eyes puckered to fresh laughter. "Troth, and you needna
fear, Kenneth. No girl will can do that for you."

"Well then," I was beginning, half placated at the apparent flattery, but
stopped with a sudden divination of her meaning. "You think me a fool
already. Is that it?"

"I wass thinking that maybe you werena showing the good gumption this day,
Mr. Kenneth Montagu."

My pride and my misery shook hands. I came back to blurt out in boyish
fashion,

"Let us not quarrel again to-day, Aileen, and--do not laugh at me these
last few minutes. We march this afternoon. The order has been given out."

Her hands dropped to her lap. Save where a spot of faint red burned in
either cheek the colour ran out of her face. I drove my news home, playing
for a sign of her love, desiring to reach the spring of her tears.

"Some of us will never cross the border twice," I said.

My news had flung a shadow across the bright track of her gayety. 'Tis one
thing for a high-spirited woman to buckle on the sword of her friend; 'tis
another to see him go out to the fight.

"Let us not be thinking of that at all, Kenneth," she cried.

"Why not? 'Tis a fact to face," I insisted cruelly. "There'll be many a
merry lusty gentleman lying quiet under the sod, Aileen, before