Madeline and Aram sat apart at one corner of the hearth, and Ellinor leaned over the chair of the former; the mirth that she struggled to suppress from being audible, mantling over her arch face and laughing eyes; while the Squire, taking the pipe from his mouth, turned round on his easy chair, and nodded complacently to the little corps, and the great commander.
“We are all ready now, your honour,” said Peter, in a voice that did not seem to belong to his body, so big did it sound, “all hot, all eager.”
“Why you yourself are a host, Peter,” said Ellinor with affected gravity; “your sight alone would frighten an army of robbers: who could have thought you could assume so military an air? The Corporal himself was never so upright!”
“I have practised my present attitude all the day, Miss,” said Peter, proudly, “and I believe I may now say as Mr. Sternhold says or sings, in the twenty-sixth Psalm, verse twelfth.
‘My foot is stayed for all assays,
It standeth well and right,
Wherefore to God—will I give praise
In all the people’s sight!’
Jacobina, behave yourself, child. I don’t think, your honour, that we miss the Corporal so much as I fancied at first, for we all does very well without him.”
“Indeed you are a most worthy substitute, Peter; and now, Nell, just reach me my hat and cloak; I will set you at your posts: you will have an ugly night of it.”
“Very indeed, your honour,” cried all the army, speaking for the first time.
“Silence—order—discipline,” said Peter gruffly. “March!”
But instead of marching across the hall, the recruits huddled up one after the other, like a flock of geese, whom Jacobina might be supposed to have set in motion, and each scraping to the ladies, as they shuffled, sneaked, bundled, and bustled out at the door.