Mount surveyed the riflemen in their suits of brown holland and belted rifle-frocks.
"Dave Elerson, you look like a Quakeress in a Dutch jerkin," he observed.
"'Tis the nate turrn to yere leg he grudges ye," said Murphy to Elerson. "Wisha, Dave, ye've the legs av a beau!"
"Bow-legs, Dave," commented Mount. "It's not your fault, lad. I've seen 'em run from the Iroquois as fast as Tim's--"
The bantering reply of the big Irishman was lost to me as Sir George led me out of earshot, one arm linked in mine.
I told him briefly of my mission, of my new rank in the army. He congratulated me warmly, and asked, in his pleasant way, for news of the manor, yet did not name Dorothy, which surprised me to the verge of resentment. Twice I spoke of her, and he replied courteously, yet seemed nothing eager to learn of her beyond what I volunteered.
And at last I said: "Sir George, may I not claim a kinsman's privilege to wish you joy in your great happiness?"
"What happiness?" he asked, blankly; then, in slight confusion, added: "You speak of my betrothal to your cousin Dorothy. I am stupid beyond pardon, Ormond; I thank you for your kind wishes.... I suppose Sir Lupus told you," he added, vaguely.
"My cousin Dorothy told me," I said.
"Ah! Yes--yes, indeed. But it is all in the future yet, Ormond." He moved on, switching the long weeds with a stick he had found. "All in the future," he murmured, absently--"in fact, quite remote, Ormond.... By-the-way, you know why you were to meet me?"