"I gave him your message, Aunt Priscilla."
"What message?"
"That 'to-night, the peaches were riper than ever they were.'"
"Oh!" said Miss Priscilla, and waited expectantly for Bellew to continue. But, as he was silent she glanced at him, and seeing him staring at the moon, she looked at it, also. And after she had gazed for perhaps half a minute, as Bellew was still silent, she spoke, though in a very small voice indeed.
"And—what did—he say?"
"Who?" enquired Bellew.
"Why the—the Sergeant, to be sure."
"Well, he gave me to understand that a poor, old soldier with only one arm left him, must be content to stand aside, always and—hold his peace, just because he was a poor, maimed, old soldier. Don't you think that you have been—just a little cruel—all these years, Aunt Priscilla?"
"Sometimes—one is cruel—only to be—kind!" she answered.
"Aren't the peaches ripe enough, after all, Aunt Priscilla?"