The sergeant-major suddenly became conscious of the nightgown. "I've
been--for a little walk," he said, still breathing hard. "I felt a bit
chilly--so I--put this on."

"Suits you, too," said the constable, stiffly. "But you Army men always
was a bit dressy. Now if I put that on I should look ridikerlous."

The door opened before Mr. Ward could reply, and revealed, in the light
of a bedroom candle, the astonished countenances of his wife and
daughter.

"George!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward.

"Father!" said Miss Ward.

The sergeant-major tottered in and, gaining the front room, flung
himself into his arm-chair. A stiff glass of whisky and water, handed
him by his daughter, was swallowed at a gulp.

"Did you go?" inquired Mrs. Ward, clasping her hands.

The sergeant-major, fully conscious of the suspicions aroused by his
disordered appearance, rallied his faculties. "Not likely," he said,
with a short laugh. "After I got outside I knew it was no good going
there to look for that young snippet. He'd no more think of going there
than he would of flying. I walked a little way down the road--for
exercise--and then strolled back."

"But--my nightgown?" said the wondering Mrs. Ward.