she got off her bicycle outside the
gates. "What an old fuss he is, Miles."

"Has he been giving you a lesson in manners?"

"Not he." She tossed back her wavy, golden-brown hair as she spoke. "I
should like to see him try it on."

Miles gave a short little laugh.

"He got into an awful rage the other day because somebody came through
here on a bicycle. How are you to read the notice all that way off?"

Miles was not listening to her. Hearing the sound of wheels, he had
turned round and caught sight of the Colonel's dog-cart. Marjorie
glanced mischievously at him, and just as the Colonel entered the
gateway, she deliberately mounted her bicycle and rode through before
his eyes. There was just room for her to pass. The Colonel reined in,
and looked sternly round. "Stop!" he said. Marjorie obeyed. Wheeling her
bicycle forward, she said in her politest manner:

"I beg your pardon. Did you want me?"

"This is quite contrary to regulations."

"Yes, I know," she answered, looking straight at him. "I read the
notice, but I don't see the sense of it."

There were one or two soldiers standing near, and they exchanged glances
and smiled. Miles coloured up with shame and vexation. The Colonel gave
the reins to his groom and got down without another word. He held out
his hand to Miles as the dog-cart passed on.

"I want to speak to you," he said shortly, and he walked on in front of
them.

"I hope I shall see you again, Miles," he began, as they ascended the
steps leading to his quarters. "I have only a few minutes to spare now.
Come up this evening, will you?"

"Yes, Colonel."

Marjorie moved towards the door. The colour mounted to her cheeks as the
Colonel stepped forward to open it for her. Miles, feeling that he ought
to say something, waited behind a minute.

"I'm sorry about--about this," he said. "I don't understand it."

"I do, perfectly--well, good-bye, my boy."

His grave, stern face softened wonderfully as he grasped Miles' hand.

"What an old crosspatch he is," began Marjorie as her brother came up
with her. "I daren't for the life of me ride through there again. Did
you see, Miles, he was quite white with rage when I cheeked him? Those
Tommies thought it awful sport."

"What a little ass you are," said Miles crossly, "to make all that row
before the men."

Marjorie looked away. "It served him jolly well right," she said,
pedalling faster.

They rode home the rest of the way in silence.

Mi