Her father raised his voice, and a nervous reply came from above. A minute later Mrs. Ward, pale of cheek, entered the room. “Here's fine goings-on!” said the sergeant major, sharply. “I go for a little walk, and when I come back this—this infernal cockroach has got its arm round my daughter's waist. Why don't you look after her? Do you know anything about it?” His wife shook her head. “Five feet four and about thirty round the chest, and wants to marry my daughter!” said the sergeant-major, with a sneer. “Eh? What's that? What did you say? What?” “I said that's a pretty good size for a cockroach,” murmured Mr. Farrer, defiantly. “Besides, size isn't everything. If it was, you'd be a general instead of only a sergeant-major.” “You get out of my house,” said the other, as soon as he could get his breath. “Go on! Sharp with it.” “I'm going,” said the mortified Mr. Farrer. “I'm sorry if I was rude. I came on purpose to see you to-night. Bertha—Miss Ward, I mean—told me your ideas, but I couldn't believe her. I said you'd got more common sense than to object to a man just because he wasn't a soldier.” “I want a _man_ for a son-in-law,” said the other. “I don't say he's got to be a soldier.” “Just so,” said Mr. Farrer. “You're a man, ain't you? Well, I'll do anything that you'll do.” “_Phh_!” said the sergeant-major. “I've done my little lot. I've been in action four times, and wounded in three places. That's my tally.” “The colonel said once that my husband doesn't know what fear is,” said Mrs. Ward, timidly. “He's afraid of nothing.” “Except ghosts,” remarked her daughter, softly. “Hold your tongue, miss,” said her father, twisting his moustache. “No sensible man is afraid of what doesn't exist.” “A lot of people believe they do, though,” said Mr. Farrer, breaking in. “I heard the other night that old Smith's ghost has been seen again swinging from the apple tree. Three people have seen it.” “Rubbish!” said the sergeant-major. “Maybe,” said the young man; “but I'll bet you, Mr. Ward, for all your courage, that you won't go up there alone at twelve o'clock one night to see.” “I thought I ordered you out of my house just now,” said the sergeant-major, glaring at him. “Going into action,” said Mr. Farrer, pausing at the door, “is one thing—you have to obey orders and you can't help yourself; but going to a lonely cottage two miles off to see the ghost of a man that hanged himself is another.” “Do you mean to say I'm afraid?” blustered the other. Mr. Farrer shook his head. “I don't say anything,” he remarked; “but even a cockroach does a bit of thinking sometimes.” “Perhaps _you'd_ like to go,” said the sergeant-major. “I don't mind,” said the young man; “and perhaps you'll think a little better of me, Mr. Ward. If I do what you're afraid to do—” Mrs. Ward and her daughter flung themselves hastily between the sergeant-major and his intended sacrifice. Mr. Farrer, pale but determined, stood his ground.