Hallam laughed and talked, telling her about
something or other--she did not know what--but all she listened to
was the steady footsteps passing, repassing.

"Your orderly--" she scarce knew what she was saying--"is the
same--the one you had Christmas Eve?"

"Yes," said Hallam. "How did you know?"

"I re--thought so."

"What wonderfully sharp eyes those violet ones of yours are, Ailsa!
Yes, I did take Ormond with me on Christmas Eve--the surly brute."

"Or--Ormond?"

"That's his rather high-flown name. Curious fellow. I like
him--or try to. I've an odd idea he doesn't like me, though.
Funny, isn't it, how a man goes out of his way to win over a nobody
whom he thinks doesn't like him but ought to? He's an odd crab,"
he added.

"Odd?" Her voice sounded so strange to her that she tried again.
"Why do you think him odd?"

"Well, he is. For one thing, he will have nothing to do with
others of his mess or troop or squadron, except a ruffianly trooper
named Burgess; consequently he isn't very popular. He could be.
Besides, he rides better than anybody except the drill-master at
White Plains; he rides like a gentleman---and looks like one, with
that infernally cool way of his. No, Ormond isn't very popular."

"Because he--looks like a gentleman?"

"Because he has the bad breeding of one. Nobody can find out
anything about him."

"Isn't it bad breeding to try?"

Hallam laughed. "Technically. But a regiment that elects its
officers is a democracy; and if a man is too good to answer
questions he's let alone."

"Perhaps," said Ailsa, "that is what he wants."

"He has what he wants, then. Nobody except the trooper Burgess
ventures to intrude on his sullen privacy. Even his own bunky has
little use for him. . . . Not that Ormond isn't plucky. That's
all that keeps the boys from hating him."

"_Is_ he plucky?"

Hallam said; "We were on picket duty for three days last week. The
Colonel had become sick of their popping at us, and asked for
twelve carbines to the troop. On the way to the outposts the
ammunition waggon was rushed by the Johnnies, and, as our escort
had only their lances, they started to scatter--would have
scattered, I understand, in spite of the sergeant if that man
Ormond hadn't ridden bang into them, cursing and swearing and
waving his pistol in his left hand.

"'By God!' he said, 'it's the first chance you've had to use these
damned lances! Are you going to run away?'

"A