and left with the flat of his sword. "Off with you, you
damned rapscallions!" he shouted. "Leftenant Bromhead,
where are your manners?"

"And where are yours, Mr. Hennion, that ye dare speak so
to your superior officer?" demanded the lieutenant.

There was no mistaking Philemon, changed though he was.
He wore a fashionable wig, and his clothes fitted well a figure
that, once shambling and loose-jointed, had now all the erectness
of the soldier, but the face was unchanged.

"I'll not quarrel with you now," swaggered Philemon.
"If you want ter fight later I'm your man, an' if you want
ter go before Colonel Harcourt with a complaint I'll face you.
But now I've other matters." He turned to the trio on the
box, and exclaimed as he doffed his hat: "Well, squire, didst
ever expect sight of me again? An' how do Mrs. Meredith
and Janice? Strap my vitals, if I've seen such beauty since I
left Brunswick," he added airily, and making Janice feel very
much put out of countenance.

"Welcome, Philemon!" cried Mrs. Meredith, "and doubly
welcome at such a moment."

"Ay," shouted the squire, heartily. "Ye arrived just in the
nick o' time to save your bride, Phil." A remark which sent
the whip rattling to the ground from the hands of Janice.
"An' ye a king's officer!" he ended. "Bubble your story
to us, lad."