"Eyeh, man, is that the tale?" said Mrs. Gilsland. "I wouldn't say but it was dead hard upon Mr. Horry's papaw; but, dear life! was the man crazed that he would take it out on his childer?--for more neglected things than them two, begging your pardon, Mr. Patchey, were not in this countryside; and how they've comed up to be as they are is just one of the miracles of Providence. Neyther a play nor a lesson like other folks's childer, nor a soul, to see them frae year's end to year's end. It was common talk; that's the way I know; but, eyeh, Mr. Patchey! had the very Cornel himsel' no thought for them poor childer there?" "The Colonel was at his duty, mum," said Patchey. "He was resident at Rum Chunder station, and me with him; and he served in the Burmah war, and wherever bullets were flying, as the Sergeant can tell you. There was little time to think of our own bairns, let alone ither people's, in these days. The Colonel was in Indeea, and in het wark, and me with him, for nigh upon forty year." "Hot work, ye may well say, Patchey, my friend," said the Sergeant, authoritatively. "It's little they know, them easy foulks at home, what the like of huz souldiers goes through. Eat when you can and sleep when you can, but work and fight awlways: them's the orders of life as was upon you and me." "Eyeh, Sergeant!" cried Mrs. Gilsland, suddenly facing round upon the self-betrayed veteran, "was them the words you said to my Sam, when the lad was 'ticed away and 'listed all out of your flatteries?--or to the young Squire, when he hearkened to you? Eyeh, ye deceitful ould man! Is't a parcel o' stories, and nowght else, ye tell to the poor young lads, that knaw no better? and make poor mouths, and take pity on the sodgherin', when ye're awl by yoursel'?" "Whisht, mistress, whisht!" said the Sergeant, who had recovered during this speech from his momentary dismay. "Did I say owght but what's come true? Sam Gilsland's been home on furlough, Patchey--as pretty a lad as ever handled a gun--corporal, and well spoken on; and the young Squire's leftenant, and mentioned in the papers--and what could friend or relation, if it was an onreasonable woman, wish for more?" "Ye may make your mind easy, mum, about Leftenant Musgrave; and your son, if he's steady, will come well on in the Rifles--'special when the Cornel's tooken him up," said Patchey. "Our Cornel, he's that kind of a man when he takes an interest in a lad he's not one that forgets. I should say he would do uncommon well if he's steady, being come of responsible folk, and the Cornel for a friend."