"No mam," said he frowning, "not him nor any like him. He aren't fit for you to walk on—'twould dirty your pretty shoes——"
"But I don't mean to walk on him, nor spoil my shoes."
"Then don't hold no truck with him, mam—if you do——" the Sergeant set his grim jaw fiercely.
"Well—what?"
"I shall be compelled to—out with his liver mam, that's all!"
"Lud, Sergeant Tring."
"Bound to do it, Mrs. Agatha, so—keep away from same——"
"Sergeant, don't be a fool! I must use him to find out and why do you think I want to find out?"
"Being a woman—curiosity belike?"
"Being a blockhead you must be told!" cried Mrs. Agatha, her eyes flashing, "I want to find out the Major's trouble to make an end of the Major's trouble because I would keep him here at home. And I would keep him at home because then he won't go a-marching off to the wars, and if he don't go marching to the wars, why then—then——"