"Upstairs," was the reply.

Her father raised his voice, and a nervous reply came from above. A
minute later Mrs. Ward, pale of cheek, entered the room.

"Here's fine goings-on!" said the sergeant major, sharply. "I go for a
little walk, and when I come back this--this infernal cockroach has got
its arm round my daughter's waist. Why don't you look after her? Do
you know anything about it?"

His wife shook her head.

"Five feet four and about thirty round the chest, and wants to marry my
daughter!" said the sergeant-major, with a sneer. "Eh? What's that?
What did you say? What?"

"I said that's a pretty good size for a cockroach," murmured Mr. Farrer,
defiantly. "Besides, size isn't everything. If it was, you'd be a
general instead of only a sergeant-major."

"You get out of my house," said the other, as soon as he could get his
breath. "Go on Sharp with it."

"I'm going," said the mortified Mr. Farrer. "I'm sorry if I was rude. I
came on purpose to see you to-night. Bertha--Miss Ward, I mean--told me
your ideas, but I couldn't believe her. I said you'd got more common
sense than to object to a man just because he wasn't a soldier."

"I want a man for a son-in-law," said the other. "I don't say he's got
to be a soldier."