fe does not suit the
poor boy, or so he complains. He is a little sore with his father
for subjecting him to it, and cannot take his stern view about paying
the debts. That is natural enough, perhaps." She heaved another
sigh. "His regiment--or rather the second battalion, to which he
belongs--was ordered down to Plymouth last January, and since then
has been occupied with drill and petty irritating duties at which he
grumbles sorely--though I believe there is a prospect of their being
ordered out to Portugal before long."

"You see him often?" I asked.

She seemed to pause a moment. "Yes; oh, yes to be sure, I see him
frequently. That is only natural, is it not?"

We left the shop and strolled towards the Hoe. I felt that something
was interfering to spoil our day; and felt unreasonably sure of it on
finding our old seat occupied by three soldiers--two of them
supporting a drunken comrade. We made disconsolately for an empty
bench, some fifty yards away.

"They belong to Archibald's regiment," said Miss Plinlimmon as we
settled ourselves to talk. I had noted that she scanned them
narrowly. "Why, here _is_ Archibald!" she exclaimed: and I looked up
and saw a young red-coat sauntering towards us.

Her tone, I was jealously glad to observe, had not been entirely
joyous. And Master Archibald, as he drew near, did not seem in the
best of tempers. He was beyond all doubt a handsome youth, and
straight-limbed; but apparently a sullen one. He kept his eyes on
the ground and only lifted them for a moment when close in front of
us.

"Good afternoon, aunt."

"Good afternoon, Archibald. This is Harry--my friend of whom you
have heard me speak."

He glanced at me with a curt nod. I could see that he considered me
a nuisance. An awkward silence fell between the three of us, broken
at length by a start and a smothered exclamation from Miss
Plinlimmon.

Archibald glanced over his shoulder carelessly. "Oh, yes," said he,
"they are baiting a bull down yonder."

The ridge hid the bull-ring from us. Dogs had been barking there
when we seated ourselves, but the noise held no meaning for us.
It was the bull's roar which had startled Miss Plinlimmon.

"Pray let us go!" She gathered her shawl about her in a twitter.
"This is quite horrible!"

"There's nothing to be afraid of," he assured her. "The brute's tied
fast enough. Don't go, aunt: I want a word with you."

He glowered at me again, and this time