“Well, you talk as if you were very much surprised,” and Miss Blair bridled with pretended indignation.
“Oh! No—Of course, not. I only——”
“Oh! yes, you do,” and she tossed her pretty head with well-feigned disdain. “You are as bold with your compliments as you were with your sword.”
She turned from him to Sergeant Stamper, who was regarding her with open-mouthed admiration.
“How do you do, Sergeant Stamper? How’s Delia? And how are her new chickens? Tell her she isn’t to keep on sending them all to me. I am going to learn to raise them for myself now.”
“I daren’t tell her that,” said the little fellow. “You know I can’t do nothin’ with Delia Dove. You’re the only one can do that. If I tell her that, she’d discharge me, an’ sen’ me ’way from the place.”
“I’m glad to see she’s breaking you in so well,” laughed Blair.
In a short time all the soldiers from the old county who were left were back at home, together with some who were not originally from that county, but who, having nowhere better to go, and no means to go with, even if they had had, and finding themselves stranded by the receding tide, pitched their tents permanently where they had only intended to bivouac, and thus, by the simple process of staying there, became permanent residents.
The day after that on which Jacquelin arrived, General Legaie, to the delight of old Julius and of such other servants as yet remained on his place, turned up, dusty, and worn, but still serene and undispirited. He marched into his dismantled mansion with as proud a step as when he left it, and took possession of it as though it had been a castle. With him was an officer to whom the General offered the hospitalities of the house as though it had been a palace, and to whom he paid as courtly attention as if he had been a prince.