PHOEBE (_grandly_). Yes, yes, for that. SERGEANT (_candidly_). Not that it is all fighting. The sack of captured towns--the loot. PHOEBE (_proudly_). An English soldier never sacks nor loots. SERGEANT. No, ma'am. And then--the girls. PHOEBE. What girls? SERGEANT. In the towns that--that we don't sack. PHOEBE. How they must hate the haughty conqueror. SERGEANT. We are not so haughty as all that. PHOEBE (_sadly_). I think I understand. I am afraid, Sergeant, you do not tell those poor young men the noble things I thought you told them. SERGEANT. Ma'am, I must e'en tell them what they are wishful to hear. There ha' been five, ma'am, all this week, listening to me and then showing me their heels, but by a grand stroke of luck I have them at last. PHOEBE. Luck? (MISS SUSAN _opens door slightly and listens._) SERGEANT. The luck, ma'am, is that a gentleman of the town has enlisted. That gave them the push forward. (MISS SUSAN _is excited._) PHOEBE. A gentleman of this town enlisted? (_Eagerly_) Sergeant, who? SERGEANT. Nay, ma'am, I think it be a secret as yet. PHOEBE. But a gentleman! 'Tis the most amazing, exciting thing. Sergeant, be so obliging. SERGEANT. Nay, ma'am, I can't. MISS SUSAN (_at door, carried away by excitement_). But you must, you must! SERGEANT (_turning to the door_). You see, ma'am-- (_The door is hurriedly closed._) PHOEBE (_ashamed_). Sergeant, I have not been saying the things I meant to say to you. Will you please excuse my turning you out of the house somewhat violently. SERGEANT. I am used to it, ma'am. PHOEBE. I won't really hurt you. SERGEANT. Thank you kindly, ma'am. PHOEBE (_observing the bedroom door opening a little, and speaking in a loud voice_). I protest, sir; we shall permit no followers in this house. Should I discover you in my kitchen again I shall pitch you out--neck and crop. Begone, sir. (_The_ SERGEANT _retires affably. All the ladies except_ MISS HENRIETTA _come out, admiring_ PHOEBE. _The_ WILLOUGHBYS _are attired for their journey across the street._) MISS WILLOUGHBY. Miss Phoebe, we could not but admire you. (PHOEBE, _alas, knows that she is not admirable._) PHOEBE. But the gentleman recruit? MISS SUSAN. Perhaps they will know who he is at the woollen-drapers. MISS FANNY. Let us inquire. (_But before they go_ MISS WILLOUGHBY _has a duty to perform._) MISS WILLOUGHBY. I wish to apologise. Miss Phoebe, you are a dear, good girl. If I have made remarks about her ringlets, Susan, it was jealousy. (PHOEBE _and_ MISS SUSAN _wish to embrace her, but she is not in the mood for it._) Come, sister. MISS FANNY (_the dear woman that she is_). Phoebe, dear, I wish you very happy. (_PHOEBE presses her hand._) MISS HENRIETTA (_entering, and not to be outdone_). Miss Phoebe, I give you joy. (_The three ladies go, the two younger ones a little tearfully, and we see them pass the window._)