r bleeding to
death. He was a fine fellow that did it...."

"Never mind him! You were going to tell me about yourself."

"Why--I was given up for dead. It was a good job I escaped decent
interment. But the surgeon gave me the benefit of the doubt, and stood
me over for a day or two. Then, as I didn't decay properly...."

"Oh, General--don't be so horrible!" This from Miss Smith-Dickenson
close at hand. But Gwen is too eager to hear, to care about delicacies
of speech, and strikes in:--

"Do go on, General! Never mind Aunt Constance. She is so fussy. Go
on--'didn't decay properly'...."

"Well--I was behindhand! Not up to my duties, considered as a corpse!
The doctor stood me over another twenty-four hours, and I came to. I was
very much run down, certainly, but I _did_ come to, or I shouldn't be
here now to tell you about it, my dear. I should have been sorry."

A matter-of-fact gentleman "pointed out" that had General Rawnsley died
of his wounds, he would not have been in a position to feel either joy
or sorrow, or to be conscious that he was not dining at Ancester. The
General fished up a wandering eyeglass to look at him, and said:--"Quite
correct!" Miss Smith-Dickenson remarked upon the dangers attendant on
over-literal interpretations. The Hon. Mr. Pellew perceived in this that
Miss Dickenson had a sort of dry humour.

"But you _did_ come to, General, and you _are_ telling me about it,"
said Lady Gwen. "Now, how long was it before you rejoined your
regiment?"

"H'm--well! I wasn't good for much two months later, or I should have
come in for the fag-end of the campaign. All right in three months, I
should say. But then--I was a young fellah!--in those days. How old's
your man?"

"This gentleman who has been shot?" says Gwen, with some stiffness. "I
have not the slightest idea." But Sir Coupland answered the question for
her. "At a guess, General, twenty-five or twenty-six. He ought to do
well if he gets through the next day or two. He may have a good
constitution. I can't say yet. Yours must have been remarkable."

"I had such a good appetite, you know," says the General. "Such a devil
of a twist! If I had had my way, I should have been at Argaum two months
later. But, good Lard!--they wouldn't let me out of Hospital." The old
soldier, roused by the recollection of a fifty-year-old grievance, still
rankling, launched into a denunciation of the effeminacy and timidity of
Authorities and Seniors, of all sor