read in them something
that made her forgive him on the spot, even while she declared to
herself that she had nothing to forgive, and that brought to her cheek a
second blush more vivid than the first.

"All very well, young gentleman," said the Major; "but you have not yet
explained your four hours' absence. We shall order you under arrest
unless you have some reasonable excuse to submit."

"The best of all excuses--that of urgent business," said the Captain.

"You! business!" said the laughing Major. "Why, it was only last night
that you were bewailing your lot as being one of those unhappy mortals
who have no work to do."

"To those they love, the gods lend patient hearing. I forget the Latin,
but that does not matter just now. What I wish to convey is this--that I
need no longer be idle unless I choose. I have found some work to do.
Lend me your ears, both of you. About an hour after you, sir, had
started for Deepley Walls, I received a note from the editor of the
_Eastbury Courier_, in which he requested me to give him an early call.
My curiosity prompted me to look in upon him as soon as breakfast was
over. I found that he was brother to the editor of one of the London
magazines--a gentleman whom I met one evening at a party in town. The
London editor remembered me, and had written to the Eastbury editor to
make arrangements with me for writing a series of magazine articles on
India and my experiences there during the late mutiny. I need not bore
you with details; it is sufficient to say that my objections were talked
down one by one; and I left the office committed to a sixteen-page
article by the sixth of next month."

"You an author!" exclaimed the Major. "I should as soon have thought of
your enlisting in the Marines."

"It will only be for a few months, uncle--only till my limited stock of
experiences shall be exhausted. After that I shall be relegated to my
natural obscurity, doubtless never to emerge again."

"Hem," said the Major, nervously. "Geordie, my boy, I have by me one or
two little poems which I wrote when I was about nineteen--trifles flung
off on the inspiration of the moment. Perhaps, when you come to know
your friend the editor better than you do now, you might induce him to
bring them out--to find an odd corner for them in his magazine. I
shouldn't want payment for them, you know. You might just mention that
fact; and I assure you that I have seen many worse things than they are
in pri