— I worked my way round to what you find me now. As such, I shall remain. No relations will be disgraced by me, or made unhappy for me, and — and that’s all I’ve got to say.”

The door had been opened to admit another soldier-looking man of less prepossessing appearance at first sight, and a weather-tanned, bright-eyed wholesome woman with a basket, who, from her entrance, had been exceedingly attentive to all Mr George had said. Mr George had received them with a familiar nod and a friendly look, but without any more particular greeting in the midst of his address. He now shook them cordially by the hand, and said, “Miss Summerson and gentlemen, this is an old comrade of mine, Joseph Bagnet. And this is his wife, Mrs Bagnet.”

Mr Bagnet made us a stiff military bow, and Mrs Bagnet dropped us a curtsey.

“Real good friends of mine they are,” sald Mr George. “It was at their house I was taken.”

“With a second-hand wiolinceller,” Mr Bagnet put in, twitching his head angrily. “Of a good tone. For a friend. That money was no object to.”

“Mat,” said Mr George, “you have heard pretty well all I have been saying to this lady and these two gentlemen. I know it meets your approval?”

Mr Bagnet, after considering, referred the point to his wife. “Old girl,” said he. “Tell him. Whether or not. It meets my approval.”

“Why, George,” exclaimed Mrs Bagnet, who had been unpacking her basket, in which there was a piece of cold pickled pork, a little tea and sugar, and a brown loaf, “you ought to know it don’t. You ought to know it’s enough to drive a person wild to hear you. You won’t be got off this way, and you won’t be got off that way — what do you mean by such picking and choosing? It’s stuff and nonsense, George.”

“Don’t be severe upon me in my misfortunes, Mrs Bagnet,” said the trooper, lightly.

“Oh! Bother your misfortunes!” cried Mrs Bagnet, “if they don’t make you more reasonable than that comes to. I never was so ashamed in my life to hear a man talk folly, as I have been to hear you talk this day to the present company. Lawyers? Why, what but too many cooks should hinder you from having a dozen lawyers, if the gentleman recommended them to you”

“This is a very sensible woman,” said my guardian. “I hope you will persuade him, Mrs Bagnet.”

“Persuade him, sir?” she returned. “Lord bless you, no. You don’t know George. Now, there!” Mrs Bagnet left her basket to point him out with both her bare brown hands. “There he stands! As self-willed and as determined a man, in the wrong way, as ever put a human creature under Heaven, out of patience! You could as soon take up and shoulder an eight-and-forty pounder by your own strength, as turn that man, when he has got a thing into his head, and fixed it there. Why, don’t I know him!” cried Mrs Bagnet. “Don’t I know you, George! You don’t mean to set up for a new character with me, after all these years, I hope?”

Her friendly indignation had an exemplary effect upon her husband, who shook his head at the trooper several times, as a silent recommendation to him to yield. Betweenwhiles, Mrs Bagnet looked at me; and I understood, from the play of her eyes, that she wished me to do something, though I did not comprehend what.

“But I have given up talking to you, old fellow, years and years,” said Mrs Bagnet, as she blew a little dust off the pickled pork, looking at me again; “and when ladies and gentlemen know you as well as I do, they’ll give up talking to you too. If you are not too headstrong to accept of a bit of dinner, here it is.”

“I accept it, with many thanks,” returned the trooper.