"How d'you know I did?" she cried. "Because I saw them hit. There were three at least, and the rule was that we weren't to fire more than two at a time." "There weren't three, then," retorted the girl, laughing, and shaking back her tangled locks with an impatient movement of her head. "There were _six_! Ha! ha! I put them all in my mouth at once, and you never noticed." "Oh, you little cheat!" cried the boy. "I'll lick you." The threat had evidently no terrors for her. She danced wildly round the table, crying, "Six! six! six!" and when at length he caught her, and held her by the waist, she turned round and rapped him smartly on the head with a tin pea-shooter. At this stage of the proceedings a lady, who had been sitting in a low chair by the fire, looked up from her book. "Come, come!" she said pleasantly. "I thought the day was past when generals fought single combats in front of their men. Isn't that true, Valentine?" The tussle ceased at once; the boy released his sister, who laughed, and shook herself like a small kitten. "She's been cheating!" he exclaimed. "I fired six peas instead of two!" cried the culprit, evidently delighted with her little piece of wickedness. "And I knocked over two of his silly old soldiers." A girl, somewhat older than Valentine, though very like him in face, laid down her needlework, saying, with a quiet smile,-- "All's fair in love and war, isn't it, Barbara?" "Yes, of course it is," answered her sister. "It's not--is it, aunt?" retorted the boy. The lady rose from her chair, and, with a merry twinkle in her eye, came over to the table. "Well, we'll hope not," she said. "Why, Val, I should have thought you were too old to play with tin soldiers; you were fourteen last birthday." "I don't think I shall ever be tired of playing with them--that is," he added, "until I'm with real ones." "Queen Mab," as the children sometimes called her, was below the medium height, and as she stood by her nephew's side his head reached above the level of her shoulder. She glanced over the mimic battlefield, and then down at the bright, healthy-looking young face at her side, with its honest grey eyes and resolute little mouth and chin. The old words, "food for powder," came into her mind, and she laid her hand lightly on his rumpled hair. "So you still mean to be a soldier?" "Yes, rather; and father says I may." Miss Fenleigh was silent for a moment. "Ah, well," she said at length, "a happy time will come some day when there will be no more war; and I think it's about time this one ceased, for Jane will be here in a minute to clear the table for tea."