be as little pleased as he
himself was. He asked a question by way of calling his companion's
attention. 'That is your carriage, sir?'

'Ah, by the way,' the General answered, 'that reminds me. That is young
Jervase standing there. His commission is probably in his agent's hands
to-day. He has learned the facts about this salt mine business, and he
has thrown up what I know to have been the dearest hope of his life. He
has joined as a recruit. He is a very fine and worthy fellow, Major
de Blacquaire. I don't know a better lad in the world, and I desire to
bespeak your good will for him. A gentleman's position in the ranks is
not very tolerable; but a friend at court may make things easier for
him.'

Now Major de Blacquaire had made a very excellent impression on the
elder warrior, who thought that he had behaved honourably and with
delicacy in respect to the unfortunate business which had brought them
together; but he undid that impression most conclusively.

'Should you call,' he asked in his most deliberate and supercilious
drawl, 'should you call Mr. Polson a gentleman, sir?'

'Most decidedly, sir!' the General answered, with sudden heat. 'He has
the instincts of a gentleman, and the sense of honour of a gentleman. He
has had the education of a gentleman, and has lived among gentlemen.
If these are not the facts to warrant the use of the word, I have no
judgment in the matter.'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' said De Blac-quaire, 'I am possibly
prejudiced; but I thought the fellow a sort of unlicked cub.'

The General said no more, but his shoulders straightened, and both hands
went up to the big grey moustache. It was in his mind to offer a retort,
but he remembered his own dignity in time, and contented himself by
saying, 'I shall recommend him most strongly to Colonel Stacey's best
consideration. And you, Major de Blacquaire, I understand, are leaving
the regiment?'

'I have received a Staff appointment, sir, and I leave to-morrow. These
are the Colonel's quarters.'

Both men had grown extremely frigid, but Colonel Stacey's welcome to his
old campaigning comrade smoothed the General's ruffled mind. He was a
bluff, grizzled man of sixty, with a scarlet countenance and a white
head so closely cropped that it looked like a bottle-brush. He had seen
service in every quarter of the world, and his manly chest was
covered with well-won medals. He listened to the General's story
sympathetically, but he gave his judgm