was as
well satisfied with his inspection as I was with mine.

"Does your mother know of your coming?" I asked, for I was determined
to take no unfair advantage.

"She told me I could come," he answered, without any backwardness,
yet with modesty.

"Good. Well, what do you think?"

"Why do you sleep in your clothes?"

[Illustration: "Why do you sleep in your clothes?"]

"Oh, a soldier often sleeps in his clothes."

"But I don't think you're a soldier."

"Why?"

"Where is your sword?"

"I'll get that by-and-by."

"If I was a soldier I'd sleep with my sword."

"Well, you'd find it a mighty uncomfortable bedfellow," I answered,
laughing. At which he laughed too, and we were fast becoming friends.

"Will you be a soldier?" I went on.

"I don't know. What's your name?"

"One moment, my young diplomat. Do you never answer a question but
by asking another? Surely you're not a Scotchman?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what do you think you are?"

"I think I'm a Methodist."

"So you are. But that may be much the same thing, for aught I know.
My name's Captain Geraldine. Now tell me yours."

"Christopher. Can you sing?"

"I can sing, my boy, like a mavis, like a bird-of-paradise. Would
you like to taste my quality?" and without more ado I sang to him.

"The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,
Nor deep eneugh the sea,
Nor braid eneugh this weary warld
To part my Love frae me."

"I like that," he said, gravely, when I had made an end. "You sing
well."

"So I have been informed, sir; and I am most sensible of your
confirmation of the favourable verdict, which is flattering beyond
my poor deserts."

But he did not find this at all to his taste, and I was sorry to
see my untimely nonsense caused him to shrink somewhat from me,
which hurt me to a degree I could not have believed possible.

But my embarrassment was relieved by his mother's voice calling us
from the foot of the stairs, and hand in hand we went down together.

I looked at my hostess with much curiosity, and found her quiet
and serene, though the traces of the anxiety of overnight were
visible in her pale face and tired eyes.

"Good-morning, Mistress Routh."

"Good-morning, Captain Geraldine. I see my boy has taken to you;
it is a good sign."

The words were like balm to me, and I looked at her searchingly to
see expected signs of relenting, but I recognised only too clearly
it was the kindly civility of an entire stranger, a