stretching forth for the dusky flagon (it was
sacrilege to sweep away those insignia of age and respectability),
managed to capsize the candelabrum and sent the fluid "adamantine"
spattering a treasured table-cloth (how quick the dash of the young
trooper's hand upon the flame--and its extinction!), a gentle smile was
the sole rebuke, followed by a "Thank you, Mr. Harris. I hope you
didn't burn your hand! That's all my fault." The general declared it
foolish to put candles on the table when we could have sconces by the
dozen on the walls.

Indeed, there must have been a dozen candles, not to mention the big
lamps of forbidden kerosene upon shelf and sideboard, each backed by
its reflector of glistening tin. "We were vain, you see," continued
Mrs. Archer, "of our two old-fashioned heirlooms. Those quaint
three-socket sticks were brought by the general's grandfather from
England in Colonial days." It was so with everything they had, though
they had so little. The massive silver forks, the worn old spoons, the
squat little sugar bowl and creamer that came in later, all bore a
crest and a single word. All had been "The General's" before ever that
well-descended veteran had bent the knee in wooing. All had been stored
in San Francisco until their coming to cheer his exile, but now were
duly paraded in honor of their first guests at Almy, the young scout
leader from the southern border, and his classmate, the new
aide-de-camp of the commanding general; both, as was understood, to
leave them on the morrow.

And all this time, too, though the windows, Arizona fashion, were
blanketed to exclude all heatful light throughout the day (those of the
dining-room being hidden behind Navajo fabrics in black and white, and
blue and crimson), the hallways were wide open that no breath of air
might be lost. The hounds clustered whimpering and wondering at the
doorways, front and rear, resentful of the vigilance with which the
orderlies on duty withstood their dashes, they who long weeks and
months had had the run of the house. Darkness had settled down upon the
sandy parade. The lights gleamed along the opposite front, the long
barracks of the soldiery, and the stars were glinting bright above the
beetling pine crests beyond the murmuring stream. Over at the mess the
surgeon, the adjutant, quartermaster, Captain Bonner of the infantry,
with his subaltern, and solemn Captain Turner, sat on the veranda,
smoked their pipes, and even while k