"Humble? Am I?" queried the Major and fell to pondering the question, chin in hand.
"Aye, truly," she answered, nodding aggressively, "your humility nauseates me, positively!"
"Child," he answered smiling, "what manner of man would you have?"
"Grandad," she answered, "I would have him tall and strong and brave, but—above all—masterful!"
"In a word, a blustering bully!" he answered gently, grey eyes a-twinkle.
"Aye," she nodded vehemently, "even that, rather than—than a—a——"
"An ancient man, ill-dressed and humble," he suggested and laughed; whereat she frowned and bit her bonnet-string in strong, white teeth, then:
"'Tis a very beast of a coat!" she exclaimed, "stained, spotted, tarnished, tattered and torn!"
"Torn!" exclaimed the Major, glancing down at himself again. "Egad and Sergeant Zebedee mended it but a week since——"
"And the buttons are scratched and hanging by threads!"