"And mind, if I am wanted, I am unwell in bed. I want a good start." "I see, sir. You may depend on me. But what house, sir, in Prince's Road?" "You'll see, blockhead. The one that is lighted up. Mrs Pontardent's." Major Rockley's regimental servant saluted, turned upon his heel, and went out muttering "Scoundrel!" between his teeth. "I wonder who the lady is?" "I wouldn't change places with you, my fine fellow," he muttered, as he went across the parade ground; and, turning a corner, he came suddenly upon Sir Harry Payne, Sir Matthew Bray, and the new cornet, who flushed scarlet, as he saw the dragoon. James Bell saluted, and was passing, but Sir Harry Payne stopped him, and Cornet Denville said hastily: "I've left my cigar-case. Join you directly." He went away quickly, and Sir Harry Payne said: "Where are you going, Bell?" "Major's washerwoman, sir," said the dragoon promptly. "Then you can call at River's for me. Half a dozen pairs of white kid gloves. He knows my size. Shall he get you some, Matt?" "No; not going." "Isn't she going?" "No." "Never mind; you'd better come. Denville's pretty sister will be there." "Phew! Will she?" said Sir Matthew, whistling. "I say, mind what you're about. There may be a row." "Not there. I shan't notice her; and if I did, Denville's all right. We're the best of friends now." "But are you sure she's coming?" "Pontardent told me herself. She came round the old man." "Then I will come. Order me some gloves, Harry. I've no change." "You never do have any. Here! Tell them to send half a dozen pairs for Sir Matthew, and put them down to me. What's the matter with your lip?" "My lip, sir?" "Yes; it's bleeding." "Cracked, sir." "Yes: fevered. Drink too much. That will do. Nines, or tens--the gloves?" "No, no: eights," cried Sir Matthew; and the dragoon went on out of the barrack gates, with his face growing grey. "This is being a soldier," he muttered. "The scoundrel! If I thrash him till he can't move, they'll shoot me. But no, it can't be. She's too good a girl. Impossible. Besides, I shall be there." He went straight to the livery-stable keeper, and arranged for the best four horses he had, and gave the man a hint. "Very private, you know." "Right, my lad. I know what the Major is. Here's half-a-crown for you to get a glass." "Thank ye." James Bell pocketed the coin, and went off back to pack his master's valise, and load the case of pistols ready to take to the chaise in the evening, after which he went to have one half-pint of ale, for he was suffering from a severe sensation of thirst, one that he often felt come on. "Just one glass," he said. "That's all." James Bell partook of his one glass, but it was not all. Then he went back to see to the horses in his charge in a stable near the barracks-- two belonging to the Major, and one of the Colonel's.