ell--yes, I suppose so--it do be a--a matter
o' dooty with me--dooty, Mrs. Agatha, mam."

"You mean duty, Sergeant."

"Dooty, mam, pre-cisely!" nodded the Sergeant, busy at the cherry tree
again.

"See how very brave he is!" sighed Mrs. Agatha.

"Brave, mam?" The Sergeant paused with his hammer poised--"Sixteen
wounds, mam, seven of 'em bullet and the rest steel! Twenty and three
pitched battles besides outpost skirmishes and the like and 'twere his
honour the Major as saved our left wing at Ramillies. Brave, mam?
Well--yes, he's brave."

"And how kind and gentle he is!"

"Because, mam, because the best soldiers always are."

"And you, Sergeant, see what care you take of him."

"Why, I try, mam, I try. Y'see, we've soldiered together so many years
and I've been his man so long that 'tis become a matter o'----"

"Of duty, Sergeant--yes, of course!"

"Dooty, mam--pre-cisely!" nodded the Sergeant.

"Pre-cisely, Sergeant and, lack-a-day, how miserable and wretched you
both are!"

The Sergeant looked startled.

"And the strange thing is you don't know it," said Mrs. Agatha,
snipping off a final rose.

The Sergeant rubbed his square, clean-shaven chin and stared at her
harder than ever.

"See how monstrous lonely you are!" sighed Mrs. Agatha, hiding her face
among her newly-gathered blooms, a face as sweet and fresh as any of
them, despite the silver that gleamed, here and there, beneath her
snowy mob-cap.

"Lonely?" said the Sergeant, staring from her to the hammer in his
hand, "lonely, why no mam, no. The Major's got his flowers and his
cherries and his great History of Fortification as he's a-writing of in
ten vollums and I've got the Major and we've both got--got----

"Well, what, Sergeant?"

The Sergeant turned and began to nail up another branch of the great
cherry tree, ere he answered:

"You, mam--we've both got--you, mam--"

"Lud, Sergeant Tring, and how may that be?"

"To teach," continued the Sergeant slowly, "to teach two battered old
soldiers, as never knew it afore, what a home might be. There never
was such a housekeeper as you, mam, there never will be!"

"A home!" repeated Mrs. Agatha softly. "'Tis a sweet word!"

"True, mam, true!" nodded the Sergeant emphatically. "'Specially to
we, mam, us never having had no homes, d'ye see. His honour and me
have been campaigning most of our days--soldiers o' fortune, mam,
though there weren't much fortune in it for us except hard