ke a recruiting sergeant
bringing the question home to a lad at a country fair; and he fixed
Gilian with an eye there was no baffling.

"I would--I would like it fine," said Gilian stammering, "if it was all
like that."

"Like what?" asked the Cornal, subdued, and a hand behind his ear to
listen.

"Like that--" repeated the boy, trembling though Miss Mary's fingers
were on his. "All the morning time, all with trumpets and the same
friends about the camp-fire. Always the lift inside and the notion to go
on and on and----"

He stopped for want of English words to tell the sentiment completely.

The Cornal looked at him now wistfully.

"I would not say, Gilian," said he, "but what there might be the makings
of a soger in you yet. If you have not the sinews for it you have
the sense. You'll see a swatch on Friday of what I talked about and
we'll--Come away this minute, Mary, and look me out my uniform. Jiggy
Crawford! Young Jiggy that danced in the booze-house in Madrid! He was
Ensign then and now he has his spurs and handles tartan. He is at the
very topmost of the thing and I am going down, down, down, out, out,
out, like this, and this, and this," and so saying he pinched out the
candle flames one by one. The morning swept into the room, no longer
with a rival, lighting up this parlour of old people, showing the
wrinkles and the grey hairs and the parchment-covered knuckles, and in
its midst the Paymaster's boy with a transfigured face and a head full
of martial glory.

CHAPTER XI--THE SOUND OF THE DRUM

And the same spirit, martial, poetic, make-believe, stayed with Gilian
up till the Friday. It was hard indeed to escape it, for was not the
town about him in a ferment of anticipation? In our sleeping community
we know no longer what of zest the very name of the Army had for the
people now asleep in the rank grasses of Kilmalieu. The old war-dogs
made more lingering sederunts in the change-houses, the low taverns in
the back lands sounded with bragging chorus and debate, and in the room
of the Sergeant More the half-pay gentlemen mixed more potently their
midday drams. The burgh ceased its industry, and the Duke, coming down
the street upon his horse, saw most of the people who should be working
for his wages leaning upon the gables indolent or sitting at the open
windows with the tumblers at their hands, singing naughty songs.

He leaned over, and with his crop rapped upon the factor's door. Old
Islay