"Heartily, sir, heartily if so commanded, though 'tis for sure a pleasant place and if you, a-sitting there so snug and secluded, could nod off to sleep for an hour or so, what with the sun so warm and the air so balmy, 'twould do you a power o' good, sir, you being a bit—strange-like to-day, d'ye see."
"Strange? How?"
"Your temper's a leetle shortish and oncertain-like, sir."
"Aye," nodded the Major grimly, "belike it is, Zeb." He turned and limped slowly to the door but paused there, staring down at the polished floor. "Zebedee," said he suddenly, without lifting his frowning gaze, "what a plague gave you to think there was—there could be aught 'twixt my lady and me?"
"Observation, sir." The Major's scowl grew blacker:
"And—Mrs. Agatha?" he enquired, "does she know?"
"Being a woman, sir, she do—from the very first."
"Ha!" exclaimed the Major bitterly, "and the maids—I suppose they know, and the footmen, and the grooms, and the gardeners and every peeping, prying——"
"Sir," said the Sergeant fervently, "I'll lay my life there's no one knows but Mrs. Agatha and me—her by nat'ral intooitions and me by observation aforesaid."
"Do I——show it so——plainly, Zeb?"