"Is heavier than I thought. And thou'rt no milkmaid, and beyond all milkmaids fair."
"Dost think so, John dear?"
"Aye, I do!" he answered. "So, sweet woman of my dreams—come!"
Saying which he caught her in compelling arms and lifting her high against his heart, stood awhile to kiss hair and eyes and vivid mouth, then bore her away through the dawn.
And thus it was that Sergeant Zebedee Tring, gloomy of brow, in faded, buff-lined service coat, in cross-belts and spatterdashes, paused on his way stablewards and catching his breath, incontinent took cover behind a convenient bush; but finding himself wholly unobserved, stole forth to watch them out of sight. Now though the dawn was grey, yet upon those two faces, so near together, he had seen a radiance far brighter than the day—wherefore his own gloom vanished and he turned to look up at Mrs. Agatha's open lattice-window. Then he stooped and very thoughtfully raked up a handful of small gravel and strode resolutely up the terrace steps.
Being there he paused to glance glad-eyed where, afar off, the Major bore my lady through the dawn, and, as the Sergeant watched, paused to stoop again and kiss her.
"Glory be!" exclaimed the Sergeant and instantly averted his head: "All I says is—Joy!"
Then, with unerring aim, he launched the gravel at Mrs. Agatha's window.