“He’s a nice lad,” said Martha kindly; “let him come, and one other.”
“The young with the young,” said Howe, smiling. “What do you say to Roche?”
“He is welcome,” said Martha, smiling.
“Roche and Parkmann,” said Howe, speaking with a tone of military command, “you are billeted on Dame Martha Langlade.”
“Very good, sir,” answered the two young men gladly.
A general move followed, good-nights were exchanged, Marcus helped Father Nat show his guests to their rooms, and then they all separated; only Father Nat and Brigadier Howe remained in the chimney corner.
“If you’ve no objection, we’ll smoke one pipe together before we part company, Father Nat. I am anxious to ask you a few questions,” said Howe.
“You can ask,” answered the father; “maybe I’ll answer you, maybe I won’t.”
“I think you will answer me,” said Howe gently, as he filled his pipe from the jar of tobacco Father Nat pushed towards him. Stooping, he picked an ember out of the hearth and lit it, and then he leant back thoughtfully in the old armchair as the white smoke slowly curled up the wide open chimney.