ing the various accoutrements, but evidently
finding it difficult to make them fit.

"Well, I've been and talked to father, Serge," cried Marcus, quickly.

"That's right, boy," said the old soldier, without turning his head.

"I told him you were packing up the armour."

"Yes? Hard work. The things don't lie easy one with another, and we
mustn't have the helmets bruised. The shields don't lie so flat as I
could wish, but--"

"Father wants you, Serge."

"What for, boy? What for?"

"To talk to you about you know what."

"Then you've told him I'm going away?"

"Of course."

"Then it's of no use for me to go and see him."

"But that's what he wishes to speak about."

"Yes, and I know how he can talk and get round a man. Why, if I went to
his place yonder he'd talk me into stopping, and I'm not going to do
that now."

"Nonsense! Father only wants to say a few words more. He has forgiven
you--I mean, us--and, after he has spoken, everything will be as it was
before. He says it's all nonsense about your going away."

Serge nodded.

"Yes, I knew he'd say that, my boy. Of course he would."

"Well," said Marcus, impatiently, "isn't that what you want?"

"No, not now, boy. Things can never be the same again."

"Why not?" cried Marcus.

"Because they can't, boy."

"Oh, Serge, don't be so obstinate!"

"No, my lad, not obstinate; only doing what's right. I can't help
what's done, nor what's said."

"But don't stop talking, Serge. Father wants to see you at once."

The old soldier shook his head and went on packing with increased
vigour.

"Well, why don't you go?" cried Marcus, impatiently.

"I daren't," said the man, frowning.

"Then that's because you feel you're in the wrong, Serge."

"Yes, boy, that's it; I'm in the wrong, and the master knows it, so it's
of no use for me to go."

"Oh, Serge," cried Marcus, "you do make me so angry when you will keep
on like this. Look here, Serge."

"No," said the man, sourly, "and it's of no use for you to talk, boy,
because my mind's made up. You want to talk me round, same as your
father, the master, would. I've done wrong, and I told him so. It's
all because I tried to make a good soldier of you, as is what Nature
meant you to be, and he can't forgive me for that. He couldn't even if
he tried. There, that's better--you lie there, and that'll make more
room for the boy's helmet. Yes, that'll do. Swords lie on each side
under the shield