"A week," answered her visitor, who always stuck to facts. "You told me yourself one ought never to call again at the same house till after a decent interval. A week is decent surely! It seems a deuced long time, I know."
"You don't suppose I've missed you?" said she, pouring out the tea. "It's all for your own good I have you here. You'd get back to savage life again, if I neglected you for a fortnight; and it is provoking to see all one's time and trouble thrown away! Now put your hat down, have some tea, make yourself agreeable, and you may stay here for exactly three-quarters of an hour!"
To "make himself agreeable" at short notice, and to order, is a difficult task for any man. For Bill it was simply impossible. He fidgeted, gulped hot tea, and began to feel shy. She had considerable tact, however, and no little experience in the ways of young men. She neither laughed at him nor took notice of the blush he tried to keep down, but bade him throw the window open, and while he obeyed, continued carelessly, though kindly—
"In the first place, tell me all about yourself. How's Catamount?"
She knew every one of his horses by name, and even some of the men in his troop, leading him to talk on such congenial topics with considerable ingenuity. It was this tact of hers that rendered Mrs. Lushington such a pleasant member of society, enabling her to keep her head above water deep enough to have drowned a lady with less savoir-faire, and consequently fewer friends.
His face brightened. "As fresh as paint!" he replied. "I beg your pardon; I mean as well as can be expected. I rode him two-and-twenty miles to-day in an hour and a half, and I give you my word, when I got off him he looked as if he'd never been out of the stable."
"I should pity you more than your horse," she replied, with a commendable air of interest; "only I know you are never so happy as when you are trying to break your neck. You've had the grace to dress since, I see, and not badly, for once, only that handkerchief is too light a shade of blue. Now, confess! Where does she live? and is she worth riding eleven miles, there and back, to see?"
"I never know whether you're chaffing or not!" responded Bill. "You cannot believe I would gallop Catamount twenty-two miles on a hard road for any lady in the world. I didn't suppose he'd take me if I wanted to go. She, indeed! There's no she in the matter!"
"You might have made one exception in common politeness," said Mrs. Lushington, laughing. "But I'm not satisfied yet. You and Catamount are a very flighty pair. I still think there's a lady in the case."
"A lady in boots and spurs, then," he answered; "six foot high, with grey moustaches and a lame leg from a sabre-cut—a lady who has been thirty years soldiering, and never gave or questioned an unreasonable order. Do you know many ladies of that stamp, Mrs. Lushington? I only know one, and she has made my regiment the smartest in the service."