ction and that my
place was amid the thunder of the captains and the shouting. So I am
starting life at fifty as Captain Anthony Anderson of the Springtown
militia; and the Devil's Disciple here will start presently as the
Reverend Richard Dudgeon, and wag his pow in my old pulpit, and give
good advice to this silly sentimental little wife of mine (putting his
other hand on her shoulder. She steals a glance at Richard to see how
the prospect pleases him). Your mother told me, Richard, that I should
never have chosen Judith if I'd been born for the ministry. I am afraid
she was right; so, by your leave, you may keep my coat and I'll keep
yours.

RICHARD. Minister--I should say Captain. I have behaved like a fool.

JUDITH. Like a hero.

RICHARD. Much the same thing, perhaps. (With some bitterness towards
himself) But no: if I had been any good, I should have done for you
what you did for me, instead of making a vain sacrifice.

ANDERSON. Not vain, my boy. It takes all sorts to make a world--saints
as well as soldiers. (Turning to Burgoyne) And now, General, time
presses; and America is in a hurry. Have you realized that though you
may occupy towns and win battles, you cannot conquer a nation?

BURGOYNE. My good sir, without a Conquest you cannot have an
aristocracy. Come and settle the matter at my quarters.

ANDERSON. At your service, sir. (To Richard) See Judith home for me,
will you, my boy? (He hands her over to him.) Now General. (He goes
busily up the market place towards the Town Hall, Leaving Judith and
Richard together. Burgoyne follows him a step or two; then checks
himself and turns to Richard.)

BURGOYNE. Oh, by the way, Mr. Dudgeon, I shall be glad to see you at
lunch at half-past one. (He pauses a moment, and adds, with politely
veiled slyness) Bring Mrs. Anderson, if she will be so good. (To
Swindon, who is fuming) Take it quietly, Major Swindon: your friend the
British soldier can stand up to anything except the British War Office.
(He follows Anderson.)

SERGEANT (to Swindon). What orders, sir?

SWINDON (savagely). Orders! What use are orders now? There's no army.
Back to quarters; and be d-- (He turns on his heel and goes.)

SERGEANT (pugnacious and patriotic, repudiating the idea of defeat).
'Tention. Now then: cock up your chins, and show 'em you don't care a
damn for 'em. Slope arms! Fours! Wheel! Quick march!

The drum marks time with a tremendous bang; the band strikes up British
Grena