"Then I'll choose to be a soldier," said I stoutly.
"H'm! You'll have to grow to it."
"I could start as a drummer, ma'am." The drum in Major Brooks's summer-house had put that into my head.
"My father can manage it, I am sure!" cried Isabel. "And meanwhile let him come back to the Cottage. No one will think of searching for him there: and to-night, when I have spoken to my father—"
"You will speak to your father to-night?"
Isabel glanced at her bridegroom, who nodded. "To-night," said he firmly. "We sail to-morrow."
Miss Belcher wagged her head at him. "I had my doubts of you, young man. You've been a fool: but I've a notion you'll do, yet."
"Good-night, then!" Isabel went to her and held up her cheek to be kissed.
"Eh? Not a bit of it! I'm coming with you. Don't stare at me now— I've a word to say, and I think maybe 'twill help."
We left the Rector and Mr. Rogers to their task of overhauling the house while they sat up on the chance of Hodgson's returning with Whitmore or with news of him: and trooped up the lane and down across the park to Minden Cottage.