s, Sir Denis and Miss Nelly.
Nelly used to explain her stay-at-home ways to her friends by saying
that the dogs were offended with her if she went out for a walk without
them. The dogs had many tricks. They knew the terms of drill as well as
any soldier, and were always ready for parade, or to die for their
country, or groan for their country's enemies, at the General's word of
command. Nelly had to be much out-of-doors, as the dogs were clamorous
for walks, and she kept her roses in London with the old milkmaid
sweetness.

There was one happening of the quiet day that stood out for Sir Denis,
and, although he did not know it, for his daughter also.

Sir Denis's old regiment happened to be stationed at a barracks in the
immediate neighbourhood. To reach their parade-ground it was possible
for the troops, by making a little detour, to pass along the quiet
street on which the houses in Sherwood Square opened. It became an
established thing that they should pass every morning about nine
o'clock. How that came Sir Denis did not trouble to ask. He was quite
satisfied and delighted that "the boys" should do him honour.

The breakfast-room was one of the few rooms that did not overlook the
square but the street. Every morning, just as Sir Denis concluded
prayers, there would come the steady trot of cavalry and the jingle of
accoutrements. If he had not quite finished, he would say "Amen" in a
reverent hurry. "Come now, boys and girls," he would say to the
servants, "I want you to see my old regiment."

He would step out on the balcony above the hall-door with a beaming
face, and his arm around his Nelly's waist. The servants would press
behind him, the dogs push to the front with the curiosity of their kind.
Down the street the soldiers would come, all flashing in scarlet and
gold, the sleek horses shining in the morning sun with a deeper lustre
than their polished accoutrements. There would be a halt for a second in
front of the house. The men would salute their old General, the General
salute his old regiment. Then the cavalcade would sweep on its way and
the street be duller than before.

One morning--it was a bright, breezy morning of March--the wind had
caught Nelly's golden hair and blown it in a halo about her face. She
was wearing a blue ribbon in it. She was fond of blue, and the
simplicity of it became her fresh youth. Just as the soldiers halted the
wind caught Nelly's blue bow, and, having played with it a lit