ply. He stepped to the door and gave
a short command to some one without, and in a moment his company was
mounted in line; handsome, dashing fellows; one the son of an English
nobleman, one the brother of an eminent Canadian politician, one related
to a celebrated English dramatist. He ran his eye along the line, then
turned to Mab, raised his cap with machine-like precision, and said:
"No, I suppose you do not understand that. Keep Aleck Windsor from
Pretty Pierre and his gang. Good-bye."

Then he mounted and rode away. Every other man in the company looked
back to where the girl stood in the doorway; he did not. Private
Gellatly said, with a shake of the head, as she was lost to view:
"Devils bestir me, what a widdy she'll make!" It was understood that
Aleck Windsor and Mab Humphrey were to be married on the coming New
Year's Day. What connection was there between the words of Sergeant
Fones and those of Private Gellatly? None, perhaps.

Mab thought upon that day as she looked out, this December morning,
and saw Sergeant Fones dismounting at the door. David Humphrey, who was
outside, offered to put up the Sergeant's horse; but he said: "No, if
you'll hold him just a moment, Mr. Humphrey, I'll ask for a drink of
something warm, and move on. Miss Humphrey is inside, I suppose?"

"She'll give you a drink of the best to be had on your patrol,
Sergeant," was the laughing reply. "Thanks for that, but tea or coffee
is good enough for me," said the Sergeant. Entering, the coffee was soon
in the hand of the hardy soldier. Once he paused in his drinking and
scanned Mab's face closely. Most people would have said the Sergeant had
an affair of the law in hand, and was searching the face of a criminal;
but most people are not good at interpretation. Mab was speaking to the
chore-girl at the same time and did not see the look. If she could have
defined her thoughts when she, in turn, glanced into the Sergeant's
face, a moment afterwards, she would have said, "Austerity fills this
man. Isolation marks him for its own." In the eyes were only purpose,
decision, and command. Was that the look that had been fixed upon her
face a moment ago? It must have been. His features had not changed a
breath. Mab began their talk.

"They say you are to get a Christmas present of promotion, Sergeant
Fones."

"I have not seen it gazetted," he answered enigmatically.

"You and your friends will be glad of it."

"I like the service."

"You wi