As they entered the house they were saluted by the strong odour of tobacco-smoke. A man was engaged in cooking at the open hearth, and another was seated on a chair hard by, watching the operation as he smoked his pipe in silence, and beat a tattoo with his heels upon the earthen floor. The latter was a remarkable-looking man in every way. He was dressed in a plain red coat, with a tangled weather-beaten wig hanging down at full length. He wore a faded beaver with a narrow brim, and had a dirty yellow-coloured cravat tied carelessly round his neck. His legs were very long, his face was full of freckles, and his nose was tilted up in what had been a good-humoured fashion but for the heavy and forbidding expression of his mouth. As they came in he did not rise but merely removed his pipe from his lips. “How now?” he asked. “My special mission hath already borne fruit, Colonel Luttrel,” said Sarsfield stiffly. “This lady is the kinswoman of a late very dear friend of mine, and your dragoons have used her with the scantest courtesy.” “The young lady hath reason to be thankful ´tis no worse, for they cannot stand the sight of a petticoat, and they could not be expected to know of the relationship. We´ll trust to the supper, which is nearly ready, to cure her wounded feelings.” “This lady is my friend, sir,” said Sarsfield, with a frown. “And Colonel Luttrel´s also, I hope,” said Dorothy, with a sweeping curtesy, which made the soldier open his eyes to their widest with wonder and admiration, and drew a smile to Sarsfield´s lips. “I think, sir, you speak very sensibly and am glad to hear that supper is ready.” The Colonel rose from his chair, laid down his pipe, and held out his hand. “You are of the kind that pleases me,” he said, “and I would, my dear, that I was thirty years younger for your sake. Fine airs never pleased me yet and, damme! you´re a beauty.” Again Dorothy curtesied with becoming gravity. “Now, sit you down,” he went on, “and let me hear of what the Colonel yonder complains, for he and I,” and here he lowered his voice, “strike it off but ill. If any man of mine but dared to lay his finger on you, I´ll give him a round dozen for your sake.” “I´m sure you are very generous,” Dorothy said, demurely enough, and thereafter she and the old soldier began to talk together with great ease and friendliness. Presently he was laughing loudly at her playful sallies, and before he was aware she drew the heart out of him till he was completely her servant.