"Both, sir!—did I rightly hear 'ee say both?"
"Yes, you and Max."
"Hoy! be it the holy state o' matrimony wi' he too?"
"I shouldn't wonder. Prince Eugene has made him a present of the Zum grauen Bären inn, and he'll want a wife to help him."
Sherebiah looked thoughtfully at the floor.
"The striplen be a good enough feller," he said slowly. "Barren his furren blood, which he couldn't help, poor soul, he bean't a bad feller. He looks uncommon spry in the prince's noble garments—ay, he do so."
Sherebiah paused, and began to twiddle his cap again. Harry waited patiently.
"I'm a-thinken, sir, 'twould be onbecomen in a Wiltshire man to let his duty goo by, in furren parts an' all. Bean't in reason for both to take our discharge all o' a heap, and if the young man Max goos, I bides, leastways till 'ee set eyes on a plain Wiltshire man as 'ee'll fancy better."
"Well, that's all right, Sherry. Now I think the best thing you can do is to go and wish Max good luck."
He could not help smiling at Sherebiah's obvious relief at the turn things had taken. Sherebiah heaved a deep sigh; then, as he observed Harry's amused expression, a broad grin overspread his features, and he moved away.