"I am sorry I was rude that day I came into the Barracks," she said hurriedly. "I have been thinking about it. It was horrid of me, when the soldiers were there. Will you forgive me?"
"Certainly," he said nervously, putting his hands behind him, and walking faster.
"You see, I want to be friends with you," she added frankly, "because of Miles. He thinks such a lot of you—the dear boy; good-bye."
Her dark eyes, generally so mocking and mischievous, had grown suddenly earnest, and his heart warmed towards her, as he held out his hand.
"Good-bye, Marjorie," he said, "you are very much alike, you and Miles."
"Are we?" she said simply, flushing a little. "I didn't know. I am glad."
She walked back to her chum with a beating heart. "He's not so bad," she said to herself. "I wish he liked girls."
Spion Kop had been abandoned, and the British Army was in orderly retreat, when Miles found himself cut off with the remnant of his company, by the enemy. The death of his captain had left him in command, and realising his responsibility, he made up his mind to act promptly. "We are cut off, men," he explained briefly to his soldiers; "will you hoist the white flag, or trust to me to bring you through?"
"No surrender, and we stand by you, sir," answered the serjeant major gruffly. "Is it agreed, boys?"