"An angel is sometimes disguised as a devil," laughed Barron.
"But never as a soldier," said Harrison, dryly.
"Nor as a fop," growled Bullbeggor, "which the same might be said of some people who dress to appear like gentlemen, but about whom there might be some diversity of opinion among men." And he looked straight before him.
"Your wit is coarse, and if you mean that for me, I'll say you are damned insolent," said Harrison with some energy.
"Oh, hold on!" said Will.
"The Major did not mean that for you," I said quietly, advancing toward Harrison, who stood leaning against a pillar of the verandah. "He never makes rude remarks to anyone," I continued, trying to pacify his rising anger, "and he simply meant the vice versa of Barron's jest."
"I don't overstep the rules of politeness very often," said the Major, slowly, "but I don't believe in fitting all cases to a set of rules. It is better sometimes to make a rule to fit a case, such as this, for instance. If Mr. Harrison thinks I made the remark for the purpose of comparing him to an angel, he is most unaccountably satisfied with his personal appearance and certainly flatters himself, but if so, he is welcome, and be damned to him. I'll give him whatever redress he wishes at any time. Only I'd rather take it out of his friend, Dunmore, if—"
"Hold on, Major! You forget yourself," cried Will, placing a hand on his shoulder.