The next day, when all the same company, Atkinson only excepted, assembled in Amelia’s apartment, Mrs. Ellison presently began to discourse of him, and that in terms not only of approbation but even of affection. She called him her clever serjeant, and her dear serjeant, repeated often that he was the prettiest fellow in the army, and said it was a thousand pities he had not a commission; for that, if he had, she was sure he would become a general. “I am of your opinion, madam,” answered Booth; “and he hath got one hundred pounds of his own already, if he could find a wife now to help him to two or three hundred more, I think he might easily get a commission in a marching regiment; for I am convinced there is no colonel in the army would refuse him.” “Refuse him, indeed!” said Mrs. Ellison; “no; he would be a very pretty colonel that did. And, upon my honour, I believe there are very few ladies who would refuse him, if he had but a proper opportunity of soliciting them. The colonel and the lady both would be better off than with one of those pretty masters that I see walking about, and dragging their long swords after them, when they should rather drag their leading-strings.” “Well said,” cries Booth, “and spoken like a woman of spirit.--Indeed, I believe they would be both better served.” “True, captain,” answered Mrs. Ellison; “I would rather leave the two first syllables out of the word gentleman than the last.” “Nay, I assure you,” replied Booth, “there is not a quieter creature in the world. Though the fellow hath the bravery of a lion, he hath the meekness of a lamb. I can tell you stories enow of that kind, and so can my dear Amelia, when he was a boy.”