the Barracks.--We understand that Lieutenant Sir Mark
Frayne, of the 310th, has presented Smithson, the gallant young bandsman
of the 205th Fusiliers, with a handsome cheque as a memento of his
prowess daring the catastrophe after the military ball was nearly over.
Smithson, we are glad to say, is convalescent."

Dick's eyes contracted, and he stared hard at Jerry.

"That's the way some folks do it. That's what they call advertising.
Proper way. Never give anything till people's looking on, and if they
won't see, put it in the paper, and then they'll read."

"Open that envelope," said Dick, sharply, and Jerry obeyed, taking out
slowly a sheet of paper, from which fell a cheque.

"Shall I read, sir?" asked Jerry.

"Yes," said Dick, in a more decisive way than he had displayed since the
night of the ball.

"`With Sir Mark Frayne's best wishes to the brave soldier who saved his
life.' Sounds handsome, don't it? `Messrs. Roots and Company, pay
Richard Smithson, or order, Five Pounds.'"

Jerry glanced at Dick, who lay back now, with his eyes closed, looking
very stern.

"It's too much," said Jerry. "Five pound! Fippence is about all his
life's worth?"

"Have you a box of matches?"

"Yes; want a smoke, sir?"

"Light a match."

Jerry obeyed, struck a light, and held the cheque in one hand, the wax
taper in the other.

"Burn it," said Dick, shortly.

"It's fi' pounds, sir; and you may want it."

"Burn it!" cried Dick, sternly.

"Well, it's your own, and you've a right to do as you like with it,"
said Jerry; and the thin scrap of paper was held to the flame, burned
till the man's fingers were in danger, and then fell slowly to the floor
as so much tinder.

"That was your news, then?"

"Not all of it."

"What is it, then?"

Jerry picked up the bunch of flowers, sniffed at it, and set it down
again in the water.

"She's a-coming."

"What?"

"That Miss Deane as sent these is coming in with Mr Lacey this
afternoon."

Dick rose up in his chair, staring excitedly.

"She wanted to come ever so long ago, Mr Lacey said, and now he is
going to bring her. Hadn't you better let me give you a shampoo, sir?"

"Miss Deane coming here with the lieutenant--to this wretched place?"

"Well, she ain't coming to see the place; she's a-coming to see you."

"No, no, Jerry! Go and tell Mr Lacey she mustn't come."

"Likely! Now just look here. You want to keep all about yourself
quiet, and sits upon me