“I saw you go in, Daddy, and I wanted to see the maps too; so I raced for all I was worth. And now I find I’ve come just in time to get another lesson about what women ought to do!” As she spoke she linked her arm in her father’s with a fearlessness and security which showed that none of the natural sternness which was proclaimed in the old man’s clear-cut face was specially reserved for her. She squeezed his arm in a loving way and looked up in his face saucily--the way of an affectionate young girl towards a father whom she loves and trusts. The old man pulled his arm away and put it round her shoulder. With a shrug which might if seen alone have denoted constraint, but with a look in the dark eyes and a glad tone in the strong voice which nullified it absolutely, he said to the Captain: “Here comes my tyrant, Captain. Now I must behave myself.” The girl standing close to him went on in the same loving half-bantering way: “Go on, Daddy! Tell us what women should learn!” “They should learn, Miss Impudence, to respect their fathers!” Though he spoke lightly in a tone of banter and with a light of affection beaming in his eyes, the girl grew suddenly grave, and murmured quickly: “That is not to be learned, Father. That is born with one, when the father is like mine!” Then turning to the Captain she went on: “Did you ever hear of the Irishman who said: There’s some subjects too sarious for jestin’; an’ pitaties is wan iv them? I can’t sauce my father, or chaff him, or be impudent--though I believe he _likes_ me to be impudent--to him, when he talks of respect. He has killed men before now for want of that. But he won’t kill me. He knows that my respect for him is as big as my love--and there isn’t room for any more of either of them in me. Don’t you Daddy?” For answer the old man drew her closer to him; but he said nothing. Really there was no need for speech. The spirits and emotions of both were somewhat high strung in the sudden change to brightness from the gloom that had prevailed for weeks. At such times even the most staid are apt to be suddenly moved. A diversion came from the Captain, a grave, formal man as indeed becomes one who has with him almost perpetually the responsibility of many hundreds of lives: “Did I understand rightly, Colonel Ogilvie that you have _killed_ men for such a cause?” The old gentleman lifted his shaggy white eyebrows in faint surprise, and answered slowly and with an easiness which only half hid an ineffable disdain: “Why, cert’nly!” The simple acceptance of the truth left the Captain flabbergasted. He grew red and was beginning: “I thought”--when the girl who considered it possible that a quick quarrel might arise between the two strong men, interrupted: