can see the Atlas
Mountains. From Meskala I can take you to an ancient castle in the
hills, where you can put up as long as you please. The customary charge
is half a dollar a man per day and his food. I charge double.

SIR HOWARD. I suppose you answer for your men being sturdy fellows, who
will stand to their guns if necessary.

BRASSBOUND. I can answer for their being more afraid of me than of the
Moors.

LADY CICELY. That doesn't matter in the least, Howard. The important
thing, Captain Brassbound, is: first, that we should have as few men as
possible, because men give such a lot of trouble travelling. And then,
they must have good lungs and not be always catching cold. Above all,
their clothes must be of good wearing material. Otherwise I shall be
nursing and stitching and mending all the way; and it will be trouble
enough, I assure you, to keep them washed and fed without that.

BRASSBOUND (haughtily). My men, madam, are not children in the nursery.

LADY CICELY (with unanswerable conviction). Captain Brassbound: all men
are children in the nursery. I see that you don't notice things. That
poor Italian had only one proper bootlace: the other was a bit of
string. And I am sure from Mr. Drinkwater's complexion that he ought to
have some medicine.

BRASSBOUND (outwardly determined not to be trifled with: inwardly
puzzled and rather daunted). Madam: if you want an escort, I can provide
you with an escort. If you want a Sunday School treat, I can NOT provide
it.

LADY CICELY (with sweet melancholy). Ah, don't you wish you could,
Captain? Oh, if I could only show you my children from Waynflete Sunday
School! The darlings would love this place, with all the camels
and black men. I'm sure you would enjoy having them here, Captain
Brassbound; and it would be such an education for your men! (Brassbound
stares at her with drying lips.)

SIR HOWARD. Cicely: when you have quite done talking nonsense to Captain
Brassbound, we can proceed to make some definite arrangement with him.

LADY CICELY. But it's arranged already. We'll start at eight o'clock
to-morrow morning, if you please, Captain. Never mind about the Italian:
I have a big box of clothes with me for my brother in Rome; and there
are some bootlaces in it. Now go home to bed and don't fuss yourself.
All you have to do is to bring your men round; and I'll see to the rest.
Men are always so nervous about moving. Goodnight. (She offers him her
hand. Surprised,