will furnish two violins
and a 'cello. That ought to make a strong band."

The men who did not play stringed instruments, or such as were suitable
for a ball-room, looked disappointed; and Sergeant Brumpton, as he sat
with his huge instrument between his legs, looked down into its great
brass bell-mouth and sighed.

That was news which set Dick's heart beating. The officers of the 310th
would be there; he would be in the orchestra, and his cousin would be
constantly coming close by where he was playing.

And Dick thought about their last meeting and the contemptuous, haughty
way in which Mark had gazed in his eyes.

"Could he have recognised me," thought Dick; "or was it his manner
only?"

There was a strange fascination in the idea of meeting Mark that was
almost magnetic; but, at the same time, it was accompanied by a feeling
akin to shrinking, which for the moment Dick cast aside as best he
could.

He had no occasion to fear the encounter, he told himself; and from that
moment he waited patiently for the evening.

There was plenty to do previously, for Wilkins insisted upon several
band practices of the dance-music, greatly to the disgust of the better
musicians, who were ready to play the pieces at sight.

Then the evening came. The mess-man had done his best; a tent-maker had
come down from town to build a canvas hall, draped red and white; and a
local man had fitted the marquee with gas and floor complete for a
supper-room. Tempting refreshments were provided, and a nurseryman had
contrived a natural garden here and there, not forgetting to make a cosy
nest for the band. The officers of the two regiments meant to do the
thing well, cost what it might, and the invitations had been looked upon
as prizes for miles round.

There was an hour to wait before the first guests were likely to arrive,
and Dick sat in the band-room low-spirited and dreamy; for the festivity
seemed a trouble now, and he would have given anything to have been able
to keep away.

Naturally, his principal thought was his cousin, but he more than once
asked himself why he should trouble about Mark; for, possibly, he might
not come, and, even if he did, they were not in the least likely to come
face to face.

Still, the idea would return; and he was at his moodiest when the door
opened and a familiar voice said:

"Ah! there you are."

"Jerry!"

"Jerry it is, Dick Smithson. I say, do go and have a look at him."

"At him?"