cried the major, with delight in every
feature of his face. "You shall give me as many lectures as you plase."

"You must be good, then, Toby, if you are to be my husband. You must
not play billiards for money any more."

"No billiards! Why, pool is worth three or four pound a wake to me."

"It doesn't matter. No billiards and no cards, and no racing and no
betting. Toby must be very good and behave as a distinguished soldier
should do."

"What are you afther at all?" the major cried. "Sure if I am to give up
me pool and whist, how is a distinguished soldier, and, above all, a
distinguished soldier's wife, going to live?"

"We'll manage, dear," she said, looking roguishly up into his face.
"I told you that my money was all in the Agra Bank that broke."

"You did, worse luck!"

"But I didn't tell you that I had drawn it all out before it broke, Toby
dear. It was too bad to put you to such a trial, wasn't it? but really
I couldn't resist the temptation. Toby shall have money enough without
betting, and he shall settle down and tell his stories, and do what he
likes without anything to bother him."

"Bless her heart!" cried the major fervently; and the battered old
Bohemian, as he stooped over and kissed her, felt a tear spring to his
eyes as he knew that he had come into harbour after life's stormy
tossings.

"No billiards or cards for three months, then," said the little woman
firmly, with her hands round his arm. "None at all mind! I am going
into Hampshire on a visit to my cousins in the country, and you shall
not see me for that time, though you may write. If you can give me your
word of honour when I come back that you've given up your naughty ways,
why then--"

"What then?"

"Wait till then and you'll see," she said, with a merry laugh.
"No, really, I won't stay another moment. Whatever will the guests say?
I must, Toby; I really must--" Away she tripped, while the major
remained standing where she had left him, feeling a better man than he
had done since he was a young ensign and kissed his mother for the last
time at the Portsmouth jetty before the great transport carried him off
to India.

Everything in the world must have an end, and Mrs. Scully's dance was no
exception to the rule. The day was breaking, however, before the last
guests had muffled themselves up and the last hansom dashed away from
the door. The major lingered behind to bid farewell, and then
rejoined his German fr