would ever want to. The class he belongs
to look down on it."

"The class he belongs to do worse things. The Army doesn't look down on
it. It's only nature, and the Army believes in working with nature. If
it was Mr. Harris I wouldn't say a word--he marches under the Lord's
banner."

Captain Filbert listened without confusion; her expression was even
slightly complacent.

"Well," she said, "I told Mr. Harris last evening that the Lieutenant
and I couldn't go on giving him so much of our time, and he seemed to
think he'd been keeping company with me. I had to tell him I hadn't any
such idea."

"Did he seem much disappointed?"

"He said he thought he would have more of the feeling of belonging to
the Army if he was married in it; but I told him he would have to learn
to walk alone."

Mrs. Sand speculatively bit her lips.

"I don't know but what you did right," she said. "By the grace of God
you converted him, and he hadn't ought to ask more of you. But I have a
kind of feeling that Mr. Lindsay 'll be harder to convince."

"I daresay."

"It would be splendid, though, to garner him in. He might be willing to
march with us and subscribe half his pay, like poor Captain Corby, of
the Queen's army, did in Rangoon."

"He might be proud to."

"We must all try and bring sin home to him," Mrs. Sand remarked with
rising energy; "and don't you go saying anything to him hastily. If he's
gone on you--"

"Oh Ensign! let us hope he is thinking of higher things! Let us both
pray for him. Let Captain Sand pray for him too, and I'll ask the
Lieutenant. Now that she's got Miss Rozario safe into the kingdom, I
don't think she has any special object."

"Oh yes, we'll pray for him," Ensign Sand returned, as if that might
have gone without saying, "but you--"

"And give me that precious baby. You must be completely worn out. I
should enjoy taking care of him; indeed I should."

"It's the first--the very first--time she ever took that draggin' child
out of my arms for an instant," the Ensign remarked to her husband
and next in command later in the evening, but she resigned the infant
without protest at the time. Laura carried him into her own room with
something like gaiety, and there repeated to him more nursery rhymes,
dating from secular Putney, than she would have believed she remembered.

The Believers' Rally, as will be understood, was a gathering of some
selectness. If the Chinaman came, it was because of the vaguenes