Major Vigoureux | Page 6

Rogers. "But unless I'm a Dutchman, it used to be
The Gabriel's antimacassar"--and with that Mr. Rogers winked, for he
had (as the other knew to his cost) an artless, primitive sense of
pleasantry. "A gage d'amour, I'll bet any man a sovereign. Come now!"
"I assure you----"
"And you two pretending before everyone that you're at daggers drawn!
Trust an old one for slyness!"
(Once again this afternoon the Commandant winced.)
"Oh, but this is too rich!" Mr. Rogers continued, and the Commandant
felt that only the intervening breastwork protected him from a nudge
under the ribs. "I must take a rise out of the old lady to-night, when we
meet at old Fossell's."
"I--I beg you will do nothing of the sort." The Commandant's voice
shook with apprehension.
Mr. Rogers, mistaking the tremor in the appeal, recoiled suddenly from
the extremely gay to the extremely grave. "My good fellow! Of course,
if it's serious!----"
"'Serious!'" The Commandant stared at him for a moment. "Oh, damn
the woman!" he broke out in sudden wrath, and went his way with long
strides, while the Inspecting Commander looked after him with a broad
grin.
The next battery, the Keg of Butter--so called from a barrel-shaped
rock which it overlooked--was built of sods, and had mounted a single

eighteen-pounder, on a traversing platform. Here, on the north-west
side of the hill, the fortifications broke off, or were continued only by a
low wall along the edge of the cliff; and here the path, or via militaris,
turned off at a sharp angle and led back towards the Castle, under the
walls of which the Commandant passed, as a rule, to complete his
inspection by visiting the three batteries on the northern cliffs. But
to-day he broke his custom, and returned to the Garrison Garden.
As he opened the gate, five o'clock sounded from the garrison bell, and
at the first stroke of it he saw Sergeant Archelaus drive his spade into
the soil, draw the back of his wrist across his forehead, and walk
towards the veronica hedge for his tunic.
"Archelaus!"
"Sir!"
"I have been thinking over those trousers--" began the Commandant,
picking his way between the briers that threatened to choke the path.
"And so have I," said Sergeant Archelaus; "and the upshot is, Do you
spell 'em with a 'u' or a 'w'?"
"Now you mention it, I don't feel able to answer you off-hand; not
without writing it down," said the Commandant. "But what on earth
does it matter?"
"Nothin'--except that I was thinkin' to write him a letter, to thank him."
"For Heaven's sake--" the Commandant began, and checked himself. "I
wouldn't do that, if I were you. In fact, I've been thinking the matter
over, and it occurs to me that I have an old pair of dress trousers that
might serve your turn; that is to say, if you could manage to unpick the
red stripe off your old ones and get someone to sew it on. They are
black, to be sure; but the difference between black and dark blue is not
so very noticeable. And the cut of them inclines to the peg-top, that
being the fashionable shape when I bought them--let me see--in
fifty-seven, I think it was."

"I know 'em," said Sergeant Archelaus. "They were sound enough two
months back, when I sprinkled 'em over with camphor, against the
moth."
"I think they will do excellently."
"They'll do, fast enough," Sergeant Archelaus asserted; "though it
seems like deprivin' you."
"Not at all, Archelaus; not in the least. Why, I haven't put on evening
dress half a dozen times since I came to the Islands."
"And that's a long time, to be sure, sir. But one never knows. The Lord
Proprietor might take it into his head, one o' these days, to invite you to
dinner."
"Few things are less likely. And even if he did, and the worst came to
the worst, I might borrow Mr. Rogers', you know," added the
Commandant--and with a smile; for he stood six feet, and Mr. Rogers a
bare five feet five, in their respective socks.
"He might ask you both together. 'Twould be just of a piece with his
damned thoughtlessness."
"Hush, Archelaus!" his master commanded sternly, and reproached
himself afterwards for having felt not altogether ill-pleased.
"Well, sir, I thank you kindly; and I won't deny 'twill be a comfort to go
about with the lower half of me looking a bit less like a pen-wiper. But
what be I to do with the pesky things? Return 'em?"
"On no account. You might even thank him--by word of mouth--if you
have not already done so."
"I haven't. To tell the truth, the pattern took me so aback at first going
off.... But when you came