"Dangers has been our daily meat and drink, sir, and perils our portion. Consequently if dangers and perils should threaten your honour 'tis only nat'ral I should share same, besides 'tis become a matter o' dooty wi' me, d'ye see, sir?"
"Zeb," said the Major, rising, "Zebedee—ha—Sergeant Tring, give me your hand! And now," he continued, as their hands gripped and fell apart, "bring me my hat and cane, Zeb, I'll to my lady." These being produced, the Major clapped on laced hat, took ebony cane in hand and crossed to the door; but there the Sergeant stayed him:
"Sir," said he in gentle remonstrance, "you'll never go in your old coat?
"And wherefore not, Zeb?"
"'Tis not in keeping wi' your brave new hat, your honour!"
"Maybe not, Zeb," sighed the Major, "but then 'tis in most excellent keeping with my—my limp, d'ye see. So let be, Zeb, let be!"
And so the Major went forth upon his errand and, being a little perturbed as to his possible reception, fell to planning himself a line of conduct for the forthcoming interview and forming stern resolutions that should govern him throughout. Thus, as he walked, head a-droop and deep-plunged in thought, his limp was rather more pronounced than usual.