So Merrylips was dismissed, with a clap on the shoulder. And presently she found herself outside the house, in a little walled space that once had been a garden.
There she stood and looked at Rupert, and Rupert looked at her. His cheeks were red, and his level brows were knit. She knew that she disliked and feared him, because he had run away from Larkland. And she felt that he disliked her twice as much, but she could not guess why.
"Shall we sit and tell riddles?" drawled Rupert. "Thou art overyoung for me to take thee where the horses are. Thou shouldst not be in garrison, but at home wi' thy mother."
"Thou art not thyself so wonderful old," Merrylips answered hotly.
Rupert laughed.
"Thy sash is knotted unhandily," he said. "Let me put it aright. Thou hast tied it like a girl."
At that word Merrylips grew red and frightened.
"Do not thou touch it!" she cried. "It liketh me as it is."
She spoke so angrily, in her fright, that Rupert grew angry too.
"In any case," he said, "thou hast no right to wear that sash. Thou art no officer."