impartial swing of his stick at divers
heads, and told them to take that, which they assured him they had done
by sending him flying into a hedge. Peter, being reprimanded by his
commanding officer, acknowledged a hot desire to try his mettle, and the
latter responsible person had to be restrained from granting the wish he
cherished by John Girling, whom he threw for his trouble and as Burdock
was the soundest hitter, numbers cried out against Girling, revolting
him with a sense of overwhelming injustice that could be appeased only
by his prostrating two stout lads and squaring against a third, who came
up from a cross-road. This one knocked him down with the gentleness of
a fist that knows how Beer should be treated, and then sang out, in the
voice of Wilfrid Pole: "Which is the nearest way to Ipley, you fellows?"

"Come along with us, sir, and we'll show you," said Burdock.

"Are you going there?"

"Well, that's pretty clear."

"Hillford men, are you?"

"We've left the women behind."

"I'm in a hurry, so, good night."

"And so are we in a hurry, sir. But, you're a gentleman, and we want to
give them chaps at Ipley a little surprise, d'ye see, in the way of a
dollop o' music: and if you won't go givin' 'em warning, you may trot;
and that road'll take you."

"All right," said Wilfrid, now fairly divided between his jealousy of
Gambier and anxiety for Emilia.

Could her artist nature, of which he had heard perplexing talk, excuse
her and make her heart absolutely guiltless (what he called 'innocent'),
in trusting herself to any man's honour? I regret to say that the dainty
adorers of the sex are even thus grossly suspicious of all women when
their sentiment is ever so triflingly offended.

Lights on Ipley Common were seen from a rise of the hilly road. The moon
was climbing through drifts of torn black cloud. Hastening his pace, for
a double reason now, Wilfrid had the booth within hearing, listened a
moment; and then stood fast. His unconscious gasp of the words: "Thank
God; there she is!" might have betrayed him to another.

She was sitting near one end of the booth, singing as Wilfrid had never
yet heard her sing: her dark eyes flashing. Behind her stood Captain
Gambier, keeping guard with all the composure of a gentleman-usher at a
royal presentation. Along the tables, men and women were ranged
facing her; open-mouthed, some of them but for the most part wearing
a predetermined expression of applausive j