The march past was one of those brilliant spectacles with which the camp
delights its visitors. Royalty was there--indeed, royalties had
gathered; the day was perfect, not over-hot, with fleecy clouds flinging
soft shadows on the downs. There were the usual manoeuvres on the
Foxhills; there was the usual futile thirst for information as to what
was going to happen, and the usual ignorance; the usual anxious dread on
the part of husbands engaged lest their wives should get in the way, and
stop the advance of a regiment; the usual thrills of pointing interest
over distant puffs of smoke or gleaming metal; the usual captive
balloon, and not quite the usual amount of dust. Claudia, eager and
ready, was more like her usual self than she had been since her arrival
at Aldershot, keenly interested, and rejoicing quite unduly when she
found that Fenwick's battery was on the conquering side. Then came the
stirring march past, artillery waggons lumbering along, cheerful
regimental bands, a change, a skirl of pipes, and to the proud defiant
tones of "The Campbells are comin'," the Argyll Highlanders swung by in
splendid barbaric dress, like a company of giants. Claudia's eyes were
bright, and she did not so much as hear her companion's criticisms.
Fenwick's battery passed early, and, leaving it, he came back to where
his sister and Claudia stood in the foremost row, for the girl had been
far too much carried away to consent to remain in the carriage. He
looked approvingly at her sparkling and animated face.
"You should not have been in this place, though," he said to his sister.
"You'd have seen better on the other side of the Duke."
But Mrs Leslie demurred.
"Colonel Manson advised us to come here, and nothing could have been
nicer. There, we should have had horses all round us."
"Well, they wouldn't have hurt you. Come along now, and see the end of
it."
"Why should we? Stay here, Claudia. You won't get such a good view
higher up." The girl thought the same, but went. As soon, however, as
Fenwick reached the coveted spot, he began to discover its shortcomings,
and to complain of the dust and glare. Claudia laughed.
"Let us go somewhere else," she said. "I don't mind."
"Well, all the best is over, and there's no fun in sticking through it
to the end. I want to speak to Lucas over there about his pony."
"Is that the polo man?"
"Yes."
"And are you going in for polo?"
"Not unlikely. If I do, I shall do the thing thoroughly, and his is
about the only pony I fancy."
"I shouldn't think he'd care to part with it."
"So they say."
Something in his tone told her that in the difficulty lay the
attraction. They walked across the broken ground to the spot where
young Lucas stood, and he laughed the suggestion to scorn.
"Sell Tommy!" he said. "My dear fellow, not if I know it!"
"Well, if you should--"
"But I shan't. I shall have to be stone broke first."