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The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

"I say we can't give it to you now," Miss Harper persisted, with a motherly smile; "we're wearing it ourselves. We've had no time to take it off. I couldn't get the boots off me last night. And even if you had the boots, the other things--"

The flap fell again and my panic was turned into a joy qualified only by a reduced esteem for my general as a judge of character.

I dilated. "Who told--did Ned Ferry tell you that story?"

She became frigid. "Do you know who and what Charlotte Oliver is?--No? Well, to begin with, she's a married woman--but pshaw! you believe nothing till it's proved. If I tell you who and what I am will you do what I've asked you; will you promise not to stop at Lucius Oliver's house?" She softly reached for my hand and pressed and stroked it. "Don't stop there, dear. Oh, say you will not!"

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