air, with his
feet on the table considerably above the level of his chin, reading his
letter by the uncertain light of a lamp, would have left little doubt on
the subject. So engrossed indeed was he that he was unaware of the
presence of his native servant in the tent preparing supper, and read
aloud to himself. The envelope of the letter, which lay on the table,
was a foreign one with an English stamp, and addressed in a feminine
hand.

The soldier, having completed his first perusal, turned back to the
beginning, reading partly to himself, partly aloud.

"`October 4'--three months ago or more!--before she heard of this
business. `You poor dull darling'--nice names to call one's father,
true enough, though, at the time, it was brutally dull at Simla--`I can
fancy how you hate loafing about all day with nothing to do but try and
keep cool and find a place to sleep in where the flies can't worry you.'
Hum! Picture of a soldier's life! A little different from the usual
impression, but not very wide of the mark after all."

Then he read to himself for a bit something which made his weather-
beaten face soften, and brought a sparkle to his eyes.

"Bless the child!" he murmured; "she doesn't forget her old father!
`How glad I shall be if you get sent to the front, for I know how you
hate doing nothing. If you are, I shall be foolish, of course, and
imagine all sorts of horrors whenever I see a letter.' That's the way
girls back their fathers up! `Oh, why couldn't I be a soldier too, and
ride behind you into action, instead of dawdling here doing no good to
anybody, and living like a fine young lady instead of a simple soldier's
daughter?' Whew! what a fine little colour-sergeant she'd make!
Wouldn't Mrs Grundy sit up if she read that?

"Hum!" he went on, after reading a little further. "`I oughtn't to
grumble. Uncle Rimbolt is the kindest of protectors, and lets me have
far too many nice things. Aunt has a far better idea of what a
captain's daughter should be. She doesn't spoil me. She's like a sort
of animated extinguisher, and whenever I flicker up a bit she's down on
me. I enjoy it, and I think she is far better pleased that I give her
something to do than if I was awfully meek. It all helps to pass the
time till my dear old captain comes home.' Heigho! that means she's
miserable, and I'm not to guess it! I had my doubts of Charlotte
Rimbolt when I let her go to Wildtree. Poor little Raby! she's n