She said to him--for she of all was never shy of his stern ways:
"Why is the grass always greenest there, Sergeant Fones?"
He knew what she meant, and slowly said: "It is the Barracks of the
Free."
She had no views of life save those of duty and work and natural joy and
loving a ne'er-do-weel, and she said: "I do not understand that."
And the Sergeant replied: "'Free among the Dead like unto them that are
wounded and lie in the grave, who are out of remembrance.'"
But Mab said again: "I do not understand that either."
The Sergeant did not at once reply. He stepped to the door and gave a
short command to some one without, and in a moment his company was
mounted in line; handsome, dashing fellows; one the son of an English
nobleman, one the brother of an eminent Canadian politician, one related
to a celebrated English dramatist. He ran his eye along the line, then
turned to Mab, raised his cap with machine-like precision, and said: "No,
I suppose you do not understand that. Keep Aleck Windsor from Pretty
Pierre and his gang. Good-bye."
Then he mounted and rode away.
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