come on with the horses and baggage. Begad,
sir, 'tis a cursed fine property this, a noble heritage! Give you joy
of it! Here's a change from your trooping and fighting! You grow
warm, nunky, warm, eh?"

"'Tis a great change, nephew, and most unexpected. But speaking of
change, Pancras, you have grown out of recognition since last I saw
you."

"Gad prasper me, sir, I hope so--'tis five long years agone and I'm my
own man since my father had the grace to break his neck a-hunting,
though 'tis a pity he contrived to break my mother's heart first,
sweet, patient soul. Ha, sir, d'ye mind the day you pitched him out o'
the gun-room window?"

"He's dead, Pancras!" said the Major, flushing.

"Which is very well, sir, since you're alive and I'm alive and so's the
Sergeant here. How goes it Zeb--good old Zeb. How goes it, Sergeant
Zeb?" and the Viscount's white, be-ringed hand met the Sergeant's hairy
one in a hearty grip.

"Look at him, nunky, look at him a Gad's name--same old square face,
not changed a hair since he used to come a-marching back with you from
some campaign or other, rat me! D'ye mind, Zeb, d'ye mind how you used
to make me wooden swords and teach me how to bear my point--eh?"

"Aye, I mind, sir," nodded the Sergeant, grim lips smiling, "'tis not
so long since."

"Talking of fence, sir, give me leave to say--as one somewhat
proficient in the art--that your style is a little antiquated!"

"Is't so, nephew?"

"Rat me if it isn't, sir! It lacketh that niceness of finish, that
gracious poise o' the bady, that '_je ne sais quoi_' which is all the
mode."

"So, nephew, you fence--

"Of course, nunky, we all do--'tis the fashion. I fence a bout or so
every day with the great Mancini, sir."

"So he's great these days?"

"How, d'ye know him, uncle?"

"Years ago I fenced with him in Flanders."

"Well, sir?"

"I thought him too flamboyant----"

"O, Gad requite me, sir! Had you but felt his celebrated attack--that
stoccata! Let me show you!" So saying, the Viscount tossed his hat
into a corner, took the Sergeant's foil and fell into a graceful
fencing posture.

"Come, nunky, on guard!" he cried. Smiling, the Major saluted. "Here
he is, see you, the point bearing so, and before you can blink----"

"Your coat, sir!" said the Sergeant, proffering to take it.

"Let be, Zeb, let be," sighed the Viscount, "it takes my fellow to get
me into 't, and my two fellows to get me out on't, so l