"In the Regimiento de las Señoritas!" exclaimed Doña Eulalia, clapping her hands.
"What, señorita! A regiment of women?"
"Oh no!" interposed Doña Serafina, with a fascinating smile; "it is a corps raised in the last war by the ladies of Tlatonac. See! here come the valiant ones."
"Foot soldiers!" said Jack, in disgust, as the regiment filed past; "no, Doña Serafina. Nothing less than a cavalry corps will suit us."
"But can Don Pedro ride, Señor?"
"What's that about me?" asked Peter, overhearing his name.
"Doña Serafina wants you to enlist," explained Philip, maliciously.
"No," replied Peter, firmly; "I will physic the soldiers, and cut off their legs and arms; but I am a man of peace, and I will not enlist."
"You little duffer!" said Tim, reverting to his school-boy phraseology, "we'll make you doctor of the regiment. I'd like to enlist myself, but the editor would never hear of such a thing. It's my walking ticket I'd be getting if I did."
"Well, Philip and myself shall enlist," observed Jack, brightly. "You, Peter, shall attend to us when we are wounded, and Tim shall cover us with glory in the columns of The Morning Planet. He shall be the bard to celebrate our deeds."