ding his head, rose
to his feet.

"Must be going," he said, standing very straight, and looking down at
little Miss Priscilla, "though sorry, as ever,--must be going,
mam,--Miss Priscilla mam--good day to you!" And he stretched out his
hand to her with a sudden, jerky movement. Miss Priscilla paused in her
sewing, and looked up at him with her youthful smile:

"Must you go--so soon, Sergeant? Then Good-bye,--until to-morrow," and
she laid her very small hand in his big palm. The Sergeant stared down
at it as though he were greatly minded to raise it to his lips, instead
of doing which, he dropped it, suddenly, and turned to Bellew:

"Sir, I am--proud to have met you. Sir, there is a poor crippled soldier
as I know,--My cottage is very small, and humble sir, but if you ever
feel like--dropping in on him, sir,--by day or night, he will
be--honoured, sir, honoured! And that's me--Sergeant Richard
Appleby--late of the Nineteenth Hussars--at your service, sir!" saying
which, he put on his hat, stiff-armed, wheeled, and strode away through
the orchard, jingling his imaginary spurs louder than ever.

"Well?" enquired Miss Priscilla in her quick, bright way, "Well Mr.
Bellew, what do you think of him?--first impressions are always
best,--at least, I think so,--what do you think of Sergeant Appleby?"

"I think he's a splendid fellow," said Bellew, looking after the
Sergeant's upright figure.

"A very foolish old fellow, I think, and as stiff as one of the ram-rods
of one of his own guns!" said Miss Priscilla, but her clear, blue eyes
were very soft, and tender as she spoke.

"And as fine a soldier as a man, I'm sure," said Bellew.

"Why yes, he _was_ a good soldier, once upon a time, I believe,--he won
the Victoria Cross for doing something or other that was very brave, and
he wears it with all his other medals, pinned on the inside of his coat.
Oh yes, he was a fine soldier, once, but he's a very foolish old
soldier, now,--I think, and as stiff as the ram-rod of one of his own
guns. But I'm glad you like him, Mr. Bellew, and he will be proud, and
happy for you to call and see him at his cottage. And now, I suppose, it
is half past eleven, isn't it?"

"Yes, just half past!" nodded Bellew, glancing at his watch.

"Exact to time, as usual!" said Miss Priscilla, "I don't think the
Sergeant has missed a minute, or varied a minute in the last five
years,--you see, he is such a very methodical man, Mr. Bellew!"

"Why then