they
afford the regimental mess out of that? But Parliament won't stand it,
you'll see. The war minister will be beaten if he brings it on--take my
word for that."

The old general had probably never heard of a royal warrant and its
mighty powers.

"So you're going to be one of us?" he said to Trelyon. "Well, you've a
smart figure for a uniform. You're the first of your side of the family
to go into the army, eh? You had some naval men among you, eh?"

"I think you'd better ask my grandmother," said young Trelyon with a
laugh: "she'll tell you stories about 'em by the hour together."

"She's a wonderful woman that--a wonderful old creature!" said the
general, just as if he were a sprightly young fellow talking of the
oldest inhabitant of the district. "She's not one of them that are half
buried: she's wide enough awake, I'll be bound. Gad! what a handsome
woman she was when I saw her first! Well, lads, let's join the ladies:
I'm none of your steady-going old topers. Enough's as good's a
feast--that's my motto. And I can't write my name on a slate with my
knuckles, either."

And so they went into the large, dimly-lit red chamber where the women
were having tea round the blazing fire. The men took various chairs
about; the conversation became general; old Lady Weekes feebly
endeavored to keep up her eyelids. In about half an hour or so Mrs.
Trelyon happened to glance round the room. "Where's Harry?" said she.

No one apparently had noticed that Master Harry had disappeared.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A DARK CONSPIRACY.

Now, when Harry Trelyon drove up to the Hall after leaving Wenna
Rosewarne in the road he could not tell why he was vexed with her. He
imagined somehow that she should not have allowed Mr. Roscorla to come
home; and to come home just at this moment, when he, Trelyon, had stolen
down for a couple of days to have a shy look at the sweet-heart who was
so far out of his reach! She ought to have been alone. Then she ought
not to have looked so calm and complacent on going away to meet Mr.
Roscorla: she ought to have been afraid. She ought to have--In short,
everything was wrong, and Wenna was largely to blame.

"Well, grandmother," said he as they drove through the avenue, "don't
you expect every minute to flush a covey of parsons?"

He was angry with Wenna, and so he broke out once more in his old vein.

"There are worse men than the parsons, Harry," the old lady said.

"I'll bet you a sovereign there