At last the drumming ceased as the soldiers entered the wood of Strone, still followed by the children. In the silence that fell so suddenly, the country-side seemed solitary and sad. The great distant melancholy hills were themselves again with no jealousy of the wayside trees dreaming on their feet as they swayed in the lullaby wind. Nan turned with a look yet enraptured and seemed for the first time to know the boy was there on the other side of the gate alone. “Oh!” she said, with the shudder of a woman’s delight in her accent. “I wish I were a soldier.” “It might be good enough to be one,” he answered, in the same native tongue her feeling had made her choose unconsciously to express itself. “But this is the worst of it,” she said, pitifully; “I am a girl, and Sandy is to be the soldier though he was too lazy to come down the glen to-day to see them away, and I must stay at home and work at samplers and seams and bake bannocks.” With wanton petulant fingers she pulled the haws from the hedge beside her, and took a strand of her hair between her teeth and bit it in her reverie of wilfulness. “Perhaps,” said Gilian, coming closer, “it is better to be at home and soldiering in your mind instead of marching and fighting.” It was a thought that came to him in a flash and must find words, but somehow he felt ashamed when he had uttered them. “I do not understand you a bit,” said Nan, with a puzzled look in her face. “Oh, you mean to pretend to yourself,” she added immediately. “That might be good enough for a girl, but surely it would not be good enough for you. You are to be a soldier, my father says, and he laughs as if it were something droll.” “It is not droll at all,” said Gilian stammering, very much put out. “There are three old soldiers in our house and----” “One of them Captain Mars, Captain Mars, Who never saw scars!” said the girl mischievously, familiar with the town’s song. “I hope you do not think of being a soldier like Mars. Perhaps that is what my father laughs at when he says the Paymaster is to make you a soldier.” “Oh, that!” said Gilian, a little relieved. “I thought you were thinking I would not be man enough for a soldier.” Nan opened the gate and came out to measure herself beside him. “You’re a little bigger than I am,” said she, somewhat regretfully. “Perhaps you will be big enough for a soldier. But what about that when you think you would sooner stay at home and pretend, than go with the army? Did you see the soldier who kissed his hand to me? The liberty!” And she laughed with odd gaiety as if her mood resented the soldier’s freedom. “He was very thin and little,” said Gilian, enviously. “I thought he was quite big enough,” said Nan promptly, “and he was so good-looking!” “Was he?” asked Gilian gloomily. “Well, he was not like the Cornal or the General. They were real soldiers and have seen tremendous wars.”