Miss
Evelina Louisa was twenty-four, five years Dora's senior, and only three
years and two months older than Jem Agar himself. He had spoken to her
twice, and thought about her in the intervals allowed by such weighty
matters as uniform and the new sword, which, however, required almost
constant consideration at that time.
"Well," said Jem, with exaggerated nonchalance, "I am afraid I should
never be fit for anything else."
Whereat Lasher laughed and touched his hat. He made it a rule to salute a
joke in that manner, either from a general respect for humour, or looking
at it in the light of a mental gratuity offered by his betters.
"There's one thing you can do, Master Jem, sir--leastwise, which you can
do as well as any man in the British army," he said, with pardonable
pride, "and that is sit a 'orse."
"Thanks to you, Lasher," Jem was kind enough to say with a flourish of
his whip.
The dignity was now ebbing fast, and by the time that the clever little
cob swung round the gate-post into the avenue of Stagholme, Jem and
Lasher were fully re-established on the old familiar footing.
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