"Am I not to bring her?" "Oh yes! she had better come too," said Magnus. "Mammy, it is as good as a month of Saturdays just to look at you. You are the handsomest woman on the Post." And now pink tinges came upon the sweet pale face; and Mrs. Kindred was certainly the happiest woman anywhere about. XIX THE VISITORS' SEATS With whom doth Time gallop withal? --SHAKESPEARE. Alas. Time did not slacken his pace for those two people. After that very first day, when Mrs. Kindred really took in the astounding fact that she was _there_, she began to count almost the seconds as they ticked away, and grudged even those spent in sleep. She would sit far on into the night, looking over from her window to where her boy's tent rose up sharp and white in the moonshine; and with the first drum-beat in the morning was at her post, sending off her heart and her blessing to that grey line where Magnus stood. If he was on guard she watched for glimpses of his tall figure as he went up and down, posting reliefs, and in a sort loved the whole white battalion that marched away to dinner because one particular white helmet rested on his head. And never was there a more devoted frequenter of the camp, as she waited there on the visitors' seats for his moments of leisure, happy between whiles that he was at least nearby. Then she steadied her nerves to bear the sharp reports in the Light Battery drill, and watched manœuvres and evolutions as eagerly as if she understood them all. How stately Magnus looked in his various trappings; how nimbly he tumbled in and out of the caissons. And when the sergeant shouted out at parade: "Company A, one corporal absent!"--how thankful that particular mother was that it could not possibly be _her_ son. It was astonishing to see such honours and cares resting upon his young head; drilling plebs, posting sentinels; no wonder he had changed. Was the change in him all for the better? The mother could not quite tell. When Magnus was with her that joy swept everything else away; but sometimes, as she sat alone, her thoughts worked hard, and many things came in to tangle and perplex them. Loitering about the camp in this way, and never missing a formation, Mrs. Kindred also could not miss a good deal else. The Point was not crowded; but the summer girl--and the summer girl's supposed chaperon--were in sufficient force; and as young people nowadays think their words worth hearing, Mrs. Kindred did not need to strain her ears nor give undue attention to know much that was said and done. It was a glimpse into a life unguessed before. Her own had been simple, earnest, and useful, from her youth up. The three girls at home were as merry as crickets, and overflowing with fun and frolic; but the cricket fun--if fun it be--was not more guileless and true-hearted than theirs.