"Those gay jayhawkers were well disciplined for that business when Stannard took them over," said the bandmaster grimly. "Had they behaved themselves, we should have had ten friends here where we have one now." The boy listened earnestly. "Would you please tell me," he asked, "whether you have decided to have a battle pretty soon?" "I don't decide such matters," said the bandmaster, laughing. "Why, I thought a general could always have a battle when he wanted to!" insisted the boy, surprised. "But I'm not a general, Billy," replied the young fellow, coloring. "Did you think I was?" "My brother's ideas are very vague," said his sister quickly; "any officer who fights is a general to him." "I'm sorry," said the bandmaster, looking at the child, "but do you know, I am not even a fighting officer? I am only the regimental bandmaster, Billy--a noncombatant." For an instant the boy's astonished disappointment crushed out his inbred courtesy as host. His sister, mortified but self-possessed, broke the strained silence with a quiet question or two concerning the newly arrived troops; and the bandmaster replied, looking at the boy. Billy, silent, immersed in reflection, sat with curly head bent and hands folded on his knees. His sister glanced at him, looked furtively at the bandmaster, and their eyes met. He smiled, and she returned the smile; and he looked at Billy and smiled again. "Billy," he said, "I've been sailing under false colors, it seems--but you hoisted them. I think I ought to go." The boy looked up at him, startled. "Good night," said the bandmaster gravely, rising to his lean height from the chair beside the table. The boy flushed to his hair. "Don't go," he said; "I like you even if you don't fight!" Then the bandmaster began to laugh, and the boy's sister bit her lip and looked at her brother. "Billy! Billy!" she said, catching his hands in hers, "do you think the only brave men are those who gallop into battle?" Hands imprisoned in his sister's, he looked up at the bandmaster. "If you were ordered to fight, you'd fight, wouldn't you?" he asked. "Under those improbable circumstances I think I might," admitted the young fellow, solemnly reseating himself. "Celia! Do you hear what he says?" cried the boy. "I hear," said his sister gently. "Now sit very still while Moses serves the Madeira; only half a glass for Mr. William, Moses--no, not one drop more!" Moses served the wine with pomp and circumstance; the lean young bandmaster looked straight at the boy's sister and rose, bowing with a grace that instantly entranced the aged servant. "Celia," said the boy, "we must drink to the flag, you know;" and the young girl rose from her chair, and, looking at the bandmaster, touched her lips to the glass. "I wish they could see us," said the boy, "--the Colvins and the Malletts. I've heard their 'Bonnie Blue Flag' and their stirrup toasts until I'm sick----"