Then he wondered how she could have failed to guess that she must be worshipped by these rough men for her beauty.
"I have overheard them talking about you," he went on, gratified at being able to praise her to her face, though in the speech of others. "Little Sweeny says, in his Irish brogue, 'I can march twic't as fur for the seein' av her!'"
"Oh! did he?" laughed Clara. "I must carry Sweeny's musket for him some time."
"Don't, if you please," said Thurstane, the disciplinarian rising in him. "You would spoil him for the service."
"Can't I send him a dish from our table?"
"That would just suit his case. He hasn't got broken to hard-tack yet."
"Miss Van Diemen," was his next remark, "do you know what you are to do, if we are attacked?"
"I am to get into a wagon."
"Into which wagon?"
"Into my aunt's."