"Won't Edward be sorry," puffed Harold, "that he's begun that
beastly Latin?"

It did, indeed, seem hard. Edward, the most martial spirit of us
all, was drearily conjugating AMO (of all verbs) between four
walls; while Selina, who ever thrilled ecstatic to a red coat,
was struggling with the uncouth German tongue. "Age," I
reflected, "carries its penalties."

It was a grievous disappointment to us that the troop passed
through the village unmolested. Every cottage, I pointed out to
my companions, ought to have been loopholed, and strongly held.
But no opposition was offered to the soldiers, who, indeed,
conducted themselves with a recklessness and a want of precaution
that seemed simply criminal.

At the last cottage a transitory gleam of common sense flickered
across me, and, turning on Charlotte, I sternly ordered her back.

The small maiden, docile but exceedingly dolorous, dragged
reluctant feet homewards, heavy at heart that she was to behold
no stout fellows slain that day; but Harold and I held steadily
on, expecting every instant to see the environing hedges crackle
and spit forth the leaden death.

"Will they be Indians?" inquired my brother (meaning the enemy);
"or Roundheads, or what?"

I reflected. Harold always required direct, straightforward
answers--not faltering suppositions.