ou might compare her to a lobster fixed on
end, with a chin and no eyes. Matey talked to Miss Vincent up to the
instant of his running to bat. She would have liked to guess how he knew
she had a brother on the medical staff of one of the regiments in India:
she asked him twice, and his cheeks were redder than cricket in the sun.
He said he read all the reports from India, and asked her whether she did
not admire Lord Ormont, our general of cavalry, whose charge at the head
of fifteen hundred horse in the last great battle shattered the enemy's
right wing, and gave us the victory--rolled him up and stretched him out
like a carpet for dusting. Miss Vincent exclaimed that it was really
strange, now, he should speak of Lord Ormont, for she had been speaking
of him herself in morning to one of her young ladies, whose mind was bent
on his heroic deeds. Matey turned his face to the group of young ladies,
quite pleased that one of them loved his hero; and he met a smile here
and there--not from Miss Aminta Farrell. She was a complete
disappointment to the boys that day. "Aminta" was mouthed at any
allusions to her.

So, she not being a match for Matey, they let her drop. The flush that
had swept across the school withered to a dry recollection, except when
on one of their Sunday afternoons she fanned the desert. Lord Ormont
became the subject of inquiry and conversation; and for his own sake--not
altogether to gratify Matey. The Saturday autumn evening's walk home,
after the race out to tea at a distant village, too late in the year for
cricket, too early for regular football, suited Matey, going at long
strides, for the story of his hero's adventures; and it was nicer than
talk about girls, and puzzling. Here lay a clear field; for he had the
right to speak of a cavalry officer: his father died of wounds in the
service, and Matey naturally intended to join the Dragoons; if he could
get enough money to pay for mess, he said, laughing. Lord Ormont was his
pattern of a warrior. We had in him a lord who cast off luxury to live
like a Spartan when under arms, with a passion to serve his country and
sustain the glory of our military annals. He revived respect for the
noble class in the hearts of Englishmen. He was as good an authority on
horseflesh as any Englishman alive; the best for the management of
cavalry: there never was a better cavalry leader. The boys had come to
know that Browny admired Lord Ormont, so they saw a double re