opened
her hand, disclosing an old-fashioned ring set with a blood-stone.

'Ye never tell't me she was like that,' the girl said softly, yet a
little accusingly.

'I never thought,' muttered he, truthfully enough.

VII

WILLIE STANDS UP

It is not the most roughly nurtured of us who will rough it the
most cheerfully. Willie Thomson, of harsh and meagre upbringing,
was the grumbler of his billet. He found fault with the camp fare,
accommodation and hours in particular, with the discipline in
general. Yet, oddly enough, after a fortnight or so, he seemed to
accept the physical drill at 7 a.m. with a sort of dour
satisfaction, though he never had a good word to say for it.

His complaints at last exasperated Macgregor, who, on a certain wet
evening, when half the men were lounging drearily within the
billet, snapped the question:

'What the blazes made ye enlist?'

The answer was unexpected. 'You!'

'Ye're a leear!'

With great deliberation Willie arose from the bench on which he had
been reclining. He spat on the floor and proceeded to unbutton his
tunic,

'Nae man,' he declared, as if addressing an audience, 'calls me
that twicet!'

'Wudna be worth his while,' said his friend, carelessly.

'I challenge ye to repeat it.'

The tone of the words caused Macgregor to stare, but he said calmly
enough: 'Either ye was a leear the nicht ye enlisted, or ye're a
leear noo. Ye can tak' yer choice.'

'An' you can tak' aff yer coat!'

'I dinna need to undress for to gi'e ye a hammerin', if that's what
ye're efter. But I'm no gaun to dae it here. We'd baith get into
trouble.'

'Ye're henny,' said Willie.

Macgregor was more puzzled than angry. Here was Willie positively
asking for a punching in public!

'What's wrang wi' ye, Wullie?' he asked in a lowered voice. 'Wait
till we get oor next leave. The chaps here'll jist laugh at ye.'

'It'll maybe be you they'll laugh at. Come on, ye cooard!'

By this time the other fellows had become interested, and one of
them, commonly called Jake, the oldest in the billet, came forward.

'What's up, Grocer?' he inquired of Macgregor, who had early earned
his nickname thanks to Uncle Purdie's frequent consignments of
dainties, which were greatly appreciated by all in the billet.

'He's aff his onion,' said Macgregor, disgustedly.

'He says I'm a leear,' said Willie, sullenly. Jake's humorous
mouth went straight, not without apparent effort.

'Wee