Part 16 (1/2)

”Well, you have done it now, master,” he said. ”I shouldn't have thought an old chap like you would get playing a trick like that.”

”Oh!” groaned Gusset, looking at him piteously. ”Help me, please! I think there's something broke!”

”Not there,” said the sergeant cheerily. ”You wouldn't break; you are too soft and inji-rubbery, old chap. Here, you two, set him on his pins again. I am very sorry. Mr Froy, sir, about this ladder, but you see it wasn't my men's fault.”

”No, of course not,” said Waller. ”They couldn't help it. Blundering up against the ladder like that! It looks as if he had been drinking.”

Meanwhile Gusset was ”set upon his pins,” again, as the sergeant expressed it--in other words, he was helped up, groaning and breathing hard, to look from one to the other for commiseration, but finding none.

”Well, this is all waste of time, my lads,” said the sergeant, pulling himself together. ”I say, gardener, we must have another long ladder, I suppose.”

”You'll get no more of my ladders to break,” said the gardener, wagging his head, ”in the King's name or out of the King's name.”

”What!” cried the sergeant, with mock fierceness.

”Well, how can you,” said the gardener, ”when there aren't none?

There's two little ones as you can tie together if you like, and Mrs Gusset will lend you a bit of clothes-line. But you wouldn't catch me venturing my carkidge up them if she did. But you can do as you like, unless old Waxy Fat would like another try.”

”The lunch is quite ready, Mr Sergeant,” came from the kitchen door at that moment.

”Thank you, ma'am,” said the sergeant, with a salute and a smile. Then he turned and looked at the broken ladder, next at Waller, and then at the mournful face of the constable, who looked back at him in despair.

”Well, master,” he said, ”my lads aren't much of angels, and they can't fly up on to the roof, but they are looking hungry, as fellows as haven't had a bite for the last six hours; so, with your leave, Mr Froy, sir, I will give orders for a flank attack upon that there bread and cheese.--Fall in, my lads! Left face! Forward! March!” and, placing himself by the leading file, he led the way straight up to the kitchen door, halted his men, gave the order to pile arms, and marched them into the kitchen, going himself directly after to collect his sentries and bring them up to the attack.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE SEARCH RELINQUISHED.

The little military party had no cause to complain of the hospitality of Brackendene.

The constable had, for, after staying behind, looking about him for sympathy, and finding none, the sound of the voices in the kitchen and the rattle of knives upon plates had such a strange effect upon him that it was quite curative, and, forgetting his injuries, he moved pompously up towards the kitchen door, feeling that, as one of the search-party, he had a right to partake of the refreshments.

But to his intense disgust he was met at the threshold by his plump, pleasant-looking sister, who planted herself, arms akimbo, right in his way.

”Well?” she said sharply, and with an attempt to look fierce--which was a perfect failure, by the way, for Martha Gusset's was one of those countenances that never can by any possibility look angry, only a little comic when temper had the sway.

”No, not well, Martha,” said the constable plaintively; ”but I don't think I am very much hurt.”

”Serve you right if you were,” said the cook, ”coming here like this when master's out, and making a fuss about hidden spies, just to make people believe what a great person you are! They don't know you like I do. Well, what do you want?”

”The young Squire said we were all to have lunch, and I have dragged myself here to have mine.”

”Dragged? Rolled, you mean!” cried his sister. ”You grow more and more like a tub every day.”

”But tubs have to be filled, Martha, dear,” said the constable, with an attempt at a smile.

”Not in my kitchen if they do,” said Martha, with a snort; ”and Master Waller never meant _you_ to come in with the soldiers, so the sooner you go off back to the cottage the pleasanter it will be for you, for if I am put out I speak my mind, and I'm put out now so there!”

Martha whisked herself round and marched back into the kitchen, while the constable, who seemed to have the yard to himself, sighed, and went across to the mounting-stone by the stable door, where he seated himself to wait, intently watching the ivy-clothed, highly pitched roof the while, till one of the yard dogs came up cautiously and slowly, and smelt him all round, but made no further advance towards being friends.