you began, you're quite old enough--gravel,
Sergeant--aimed carefully!"

The Sergeant obeyed and almost immediately out of the window came Mrs.
Agatha's pretty face framed in a dainty, be-ribanded nightcap; at sight
of the Sergeant, she flushed rosily, perceiving my lady, who beckoned
imperiously, she smiled, nodded and vanished.

"Mrs. Agatha hath a pretty taste in nightcaps, Sergeant Zebedee!" said
my lady demurely. The Sergeant looked sheepish, grew red, became
exceedingly grim and finally answered:

"Aye, my lady."

"And a pretty face below, Sergeant!" said she, watching a lark that
soared, carolling, against the blue.

"Aye, my lady!"

"And you will go a-marching to the wars, Sergeant!"

At this he uttered a sound between a sigh and a groan and thereafter
looked grimmer than ever.

In surprisingly short time Mrs. Agatha appeared, as neat, demure and
self-possessed as usual.

"Is aught amiss, my lady?" she enquired, dropping a curtsey.

"Only this, Mrs. Agatha, Major d'Arcy will away campaigning again and
the Sergeant feels he must needs go too, so I have summoned you from
bed that we together may end such folly."

The Sergeant stared.

"And end it once and for all!" added my lady firmly.

"Aye for sure, madam," said Mrs. Agatha, calmly.

The Sergeant gaped.

"Then come to the orchard and let us talk."

Seated in the arbour my lady beckoned Mrs. Agatha to sit beside her:

"I don't think we need the Sergeant, do we?" she enquired.

"I'm sure we don't, my lady."

"Then Sergeant, go and hammer!"

The Sergeant went like one in a dream.

CHAPTER XLVIII

OF THE INSUBORDINATION OF SERGEANT ZEBEDEE TRING

"Man Jack," sighed the Colonel, ogling the wine in his glass, "now mark
me, Jack, for pure Christian drink there's nought may compare with wine
of Oporto, 'tis a heart-warmer, a soul-expander, a sharpener o' th'
intellect, a loosener o' tongues. Moreover it doth beget good
fellowship and love o' mankind in general. Begad sir, wine of Oporto
is--is--I say Oporto wine is--is, well--wine. So give me Oporto----"

"And now and then a dish of tea, George!" added the Major solemnly. At
this Colonel Cleeve might have been observed to quail slightly.

"You have acquired the taste--very lately, I think, sir?" enquired the
Viscount.

"True, sir," answered the Colonel, rolling his eyes, "and on the whole
ha' managed it very well. Tea is none so bad--once 'tis disposed of,
I've drank wors