Munn saluted him and told him that he had seen no sign of the enemy to eastward. So respectfully did he speak that Merrylips judged, quite rightly, that the fair-haired gentleman was Munn's superior officer, Lieutenant Crashaw.
When Munn had done speaking, the lieutenant looked at Merrylips, and said, with a smile:—
"W-what! Have you b-been child-stealing, C-Cornet Venner?"
Then Munn stiffened himself, holding Merrylips tight, for he knew that the minute of trial had come.
"This is my young brother," he said slowly. "He hath been reared among Puritan kinsfolk and kept from us by the fortunes of war. This day I chanced upon him—"
"Ch-chanced, eh?" said Crashaw, and his smile deepened, so that Munn grew red.
"Well, well!" Crashaw went on, "you d-did wisely to snatch this b-bantling out of rebel hands. Fetch him along, and we'll m-make a m-man of him—if Captain Norris l-let him live to grow up! Now l-let him down and stretch his l-legs, for we'll not m-march hence for an hour."
Merrylips found herself lifted to the ground, where she stood looking about her. She was not quite sure what she should do. She would have chosen to stick close to Munn's heels, but she feared that would not be like a boy. So she stood where she was left, and anxiously watched Munn, as he went a little aside and spoke with Lieutenant Crashaw.
While the two young men were talking together, a little girl ran out from the group of village folk and halted before them. She was about Merrylips' own age, with a shock of tawny hair and chapped little hands. Her gown was old and patched. She wore no stockings, and her little apron, which she kept twisting between her hands, was all soiled with dirt.
"Kind gentlemen," she said, in a scared voice, "will ye not be good to give back our cow—the spotted one yonder with the crumpled horn. For there's Granny, and Popkin, and Hodge, and Polly, and me, and we've naught but the cush-cow to keep us—sweet gentlemen!"