OF A FEMININE COUNCIL OF WAR
The Sergeant was at all times an early riser, but this morning he was
abroad with the sun itself--a sun whose level beams wrought gloriously
in dew-spangled grass underfoot, in scarlet, pink and flaming gold
overhead and added fresh beauty to herb and leaf and flower; a fair,
fragrant, golden morning where dismal Doubt had no place and Hope
lilted in the joyous pipe of the birds, insomuch that the Sergeant
paused to snuff the balmy air and to glance up at radiant sky and round
about upon radiant earth feeling that life was sweet and held its best
yet in store even for a battered sergeant of forty-three. And standing
thus, his grim features relaxed, and for once in his busy life he fell
to dreaming and forgot awhile the work that had lured him forth so very
early; at length he roused himself and marched across wide lawns and
along yew-bordered walks to his small tool-house, whistling softly as
he went. And now, armed with nail-box, hammer, saw etc., he presently
reached the work--a rustic pergola in course of construction; a very
artful work this, in every respect, requiring many fierce contractions
of the eyebrows, sudden fallings back two paces to the rear with head
jerked suddenly left or right to judge of angle, alignment, nice
proportion and the like.
The Sergeant, whistling still, had driven his first nail and had fallen
back, eyebrows contracted, to judge the effect, when he wheeled
suddenly about and dropped the hammer:
"Sergeant--O Sergeant Zebedee!"
Picking up the hammer, he set off at the double and reaching the
orchard, halted at the foot of the wall, saluted and stared up
wondering at my lady's lovely, anxious face.
"You be early abroad, mam."
"O I was here before dawn--waiting for you. Tell me, is--is the Major
in?"
"The Major, mam? Aye, and sound asleep!"
"Are you sure--quite sure, Sergeant?"
"Sure, my lady. I went in but now to draw his curtains according to
custom and found him sleeping soft as any child, God be thanked. But
why----"
"Because he intends to go away--soon."
"Where to, my lady?"
"Back to the wars."
The Sergeant swore, apologised immediately, and saluted.
"Be you sure, my lady?"
"Quite, O quite, Sergeant."
"But he would never go without me, mam, couldn't possibly--'twould be
agin natur', d'ye see."
"But he will, Sergeant, he hath written me so--he will ride away--steal
away at midnight--alone--to-night mayhap or to-morrow night--we must
stay him."
The Sergeant stared grimly at a bold thrush that hopped upon the grass
near by.
"Do you hear, Sergeant?"
"Aye, I hear, my lady, I hear!"
"Well--say something----"
"Mam, there aren't no words as'll fit--not one!"
"Well, what can you do?"
"Pipeclay my cross-belts for one thing and then there's my
spatterdashes----"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean if he goes, my lady, I go----"
"O folly, Sergeant, folly----"
"Agreed mam, heartily, but dooty is dooty and when his honour commands,
I obey--'tis become a matter o'----"
"But he doesn't command--he means to ride without you."
"Same couldn't nowise be, my lady, consequently and therefore
notwithstanding, if he goes--I go."
"And pray what of poor Mrs. Agatha?"
At this the Sergeant's grim mouth twitched and he turned to watch the
thrush again.
"Dooty is dooty, my lady."
"Do you want to go fighting again?"
"No mam, I thought my soldiering was done, but if he goes, I----"
"And never try to stay him--you'll do nought----"
"Stay his honour the Major? My lady, if his mind's set on't, a whole
troop o' cavalry couldn't stop him--no, not even a picked company o'
the Third itself--earthquakes, fires, floods nor furies couldn't----"
"No, but I can, Sergeant, and I will!" said my lady setting her dimpled
chin resolutely. "Lord!" she exclaimed fervently, "what troublesome,
wayward children men are--and how helpless!"
"Children, my lady?"
"Aye--both of you! He so wilfully wayward and you so helpless.
Prithee go fetch me Mrs. Agatha."
The Sergeant started. "Why mam--my lady, I----" he stammered,
flushing, "'tis so early and she asleep and I--she being asleep, d'ye
see, 'twouldn't be--that is I----"
"Sergeant," sighed my lady, "bring hither the ladder like a good child.
I'll e'en wake her myself."
So the ladder was brought, the Sergeant turned his back and in the
twinkling of an eye my lady was over the wall and walking across the
dewy grass beside him; reaching the house he pointed to a latticed
casement above their heads.
"'Tis rather high, Sergeant, but a handful of gravel----"
"Gravel, my lady?"
"Gravel, child--launched into the air and truly aimed----"
"But mam----" The Sergeant glanced from the loose gravel underfoot to
the open lattice above and flushed. "Zounds mam, I--never did such a
thing in all my days----"
"Then 'tis time you began, you're quite old enough--gravel,
Sergeant--aimed carefully!"
The Sergeant obeyed and almost immediately out of the window came Mrs.
Agatha's pretty face framed in a dainty, be-ribanded nightcap; at sight
of the Sergeant, she flushed rosily, perceiving my lady, who beckoned
imperiously, she smiled, nodded and vanished.
"Mrs. Agatha hath a pretty taste in nightcaps, Sergeant Zebedee!" said
my lady demurely. The Sergeant looked sheepish, grew red, became
exceedingly grim and finally answered:
"Aye, my lady."
"And a pretty face below, Sergeant!" said she, watching a lark that
soared, carolling, against the blue.
"Aye, my lady!"
"And you will go a-marching to the wars, Sergeant!"
At this he uttered a sound between a sigh and a groan and thereafter
looked grimmer than ever.
In surprisingly short time Mrs. Agatha appeared, as neat, demure and
self-possessed as usual.
"Is aught amiss, my lady?" she enquired, dropping a curtsey.
"Only this, Mrs. Agatha, Major d'Arcy will away campaigning again and
the Sergeant feels he must needs go too, so I have summoned you from
bed that we together may end such folly."
The Sergeant stared.
"And end it once and for all!" added my lady firmly.
"Aye for sure, madam," said Mrs. Agatha, calmly.
The Sergeant gaped.
"Then come to the orchard and let us talk."
Seated in the arbour my lady beckoned Mrs. Agatha to sit beside her:
"I don't think we need the Sergeant, do we?" she enquired.
"I'm sure we don't, my lady."
"Then Sergeant, go and hammer!"
The Sergeant went like one in a dream.