Forsyth was content to listen and to watch Beatrice as she sewed. Prosaic needles and thread assumed a mysterious charm in the dimpled hands of the girl he loved. Pretty frowns and troubled shadows flitted across her face as the thread knotted, twisted, or broke, as it frequently did, because she was not familiar with her task. Ronald left Captain Franklin's and came across the parade-ground with a rapid stride. "Twelve o'clock!" he said, with a radiant smile. "You wouldn't think it, would you?" he added. "I shouldn't have suspected it," answered Forsyth, with double meaning; "I must be going back." "I'll go with you, Cousin Rob." "Me, too," put in Ronald, joyously. "You needn't," said the girl, coolly. "I'd just as soon--I'm going to row you across." "No, you're not; I came with Cousin Rob and I'm going back with him." "Suit yourself," returned the Ensign, good-humouredly, "the river is a public highway; but I'm going over to dinner." He was there first, and had wheedled an invitation from Mrs. Mackenzie before they got into the house. "Put me next to Beatrice, please," he said, as they came in. During dinner every one was in high spirits except Robert, who knew that he must efface himself all the afternoon. Some way, it was harder to have Ronald there than to know that he was with her at the Fort. However, he felt a wicked thrill of satisfaction when Beatrice pushed back her chair and began to gather up the dishes. "You needn't do that, Bee," remonstrated Mrs. Mackenzie. "I'm going to help you, Aunty, and then I'm going to take a nap. I'm dreadfully sleepy." Ronald's face fell. "You're lazy," he said reproachfully. "No, I'm not," she returned; "but I have to get rested, because to-morrow I'm going to wash Queen." "Beatrice Manning!" exclaimed Mrs. Mackenzie. "What in the world do you mean?" "I'll tell you all about it, Aunt Eleanor." In her own mind Beatrice had determined to make a pretence at Queen's bath the next morning, in front of the Fort, and see who would offer to help her. "I'm going to help with the dishes, too," announced Ronald. "You needn't, George," said Mrs. Mackenzie. "I'd rather he wouldn't," remarked Beatrice, critically, "because I don't think he's clean. He washed Major this morning." The shaft glanced aside harmlessly, because he prided himself upon his neatness. "I got my hand in this morning," he said imperturbably, "and I've washed many a dish in this very kitchen, long before you came, Miss Bee; didn't I, Aunt Eleanor?" "Indeed you did," answered Mrs. Mackenzie, warmly. "I don't know how I could have managed without you." "Very well," said the girl, lightly; "as long as you're used to it, and since you insist upon doing it, I'll go and take my nap right now." Robert, inwardly joyous, but outwardly calm, took his well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare and went out to read under the trees, while Mrs. Mackenzie and the Ensign laboured with the dishes, and Beatrice slept the sleep of the just.