fficer, and--"

"That's not education; those are simply the accomplishments of a besom.
You know, dad, I 've never read a word of Darwin, and I got tired of
George Eliot and went back to Scott."

"I 've no education myself," said the General, ruefully, "except the
Latin the old dominie thrashed into me; and some French which all our
set in Scotland used to have, and . . . I can hold my own with the
broadsword. When I think of all those young officers know, I wonder we
old chaps were fit for anything."

"Well, you see, dad," and Kate began to count also, "you were made of
steel wire, and were never ill; you could march for a day and rather
enjoy a fight in the evening; you would go anywhere, and the men
followed just eighteen inches behind; you always knew what the enemy
was going to do before he did it, and you always did what he did n't
expect you to do. That's not half the list of your accomplishments,
but they make a good beginning for a fighting man."

"It will be all mathematics in the future, Kit, and there will be no
fighting at close quarters. The officers will wear gloves and
spectacles--but where are we now, grumbling as if we were sitting in a
club window? Besides, these young fellows can fight as well as pass
exams. You were saying that it was a shame of a man to complain of his
wife flirting," and the General studied the ceiling.

"You know that I never said anything of the kind; some women are flirty
in a nice way, just as some are booky, and some are dressy, and some
are witty, and some are horsey; and I think a woman should be herself.
I should say the right kind of man would be proud of his wife's strong
point, and give her liberty."

"He is to have none, I suppose, but just be a foil to throw her into
relief. Is he to be allowed any opinions of his own? . . . It looks
hard, that cushion, Kit, and I 'm an old broken-down man."

"You deserve leather, for you know what I think about a man's position
quite well. If he allow himself to be governed by his wife in serious
matters, he is not worth calling a man."

"Like poor Major Macintosh."

"Exactly. What an abject he was before that woman, who was simply--"

"Not a besom, Kate," interrupted the General, anxiously--afraid that a
classical word was to be misused.

"Certainly not, for a besom must be nice, and at bottom a lady--in
fact, a woman of decided character."

"Quite so. You 've hit the bull's-eye, Kit, and paid a neat complime