The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-04-21
CHAPTER VI.

For several days Trooper Gralce had
been in the guardhouse. Absent from
check roll call, from his quarters over
night and from reveille, he had turned up
at sick call with battered visage and all
the ear marks of drunken row. He had
been hauled up before a summary court,
Major Wayne's first duty after reporting
at the post, and received sentence of fine
with a scowling face and no word of plea for
clemency or promise of betterment. What
cared he for fines2 He could win more in
a night than they could stop in a month.
He was out again doing penance with the
police-cart about the post the day the
available transportation came driving back
from the railway with a load of precious
freight, and Trooper Graice, splitting wood
in the majors backyard, dropped the ak
with a savage oath and turned sickly
yellow for one minute when he heard the
busy tongues of the domestics next door
proclaiming the arrival of Lieutenant
Farrar's mother and sister. The sentry on
duty over prisoners babe him stop his
swearing and get to work again, for Captain
Leale was a man whose eyes were ever
about him and whose ears never seemed to
lose a sound, but the captain glanced
keenly at the soldier with his brace of
malcontents and hurried on. 1t was he
who opened the door of the stanch Con-
cord and assisted the ladies to ahght-
Mrs. Farrar, Ellis and a stranger, gentle
woman, evidently, yet one who seemed to
shrink from accepting aid or attention, and
whose beautiful blue eyes ever followed
Mrs. Farrar my friend, Mrs. Daunton,
my older friend. Captain Leale. of whom
you have heard so much, were the words
each other, while VIII and the servants
were tumbling out bags and rugs and
wraps, even as another and similar We
hicle was being unloaded in front of the
colonels. Leale dined en- famille at the
Farrars' that evening, viii proudly pre-
siding, as became the head of the house
and the foot of the table, and beaming
upon his mother, who sat facing him and
rejoicing in his happiness. Very bright |
and coy were the prettily furnished quar-
tiers, for, with boundless enthusiasm, the
ladies of the garrison had aided the young
gentleman in making them attractive
against the coming of the wife of their
honored old colonel and his fair daughter,
and right after dinner the visitors began
to arrive, welcoming, army fashion, the
old friends long endeared to all the older
members of the garrison, men and women
both; and, while Mrs. Farrar and Ellis
had hosts of questions to ask and answer.
Captain Leale found himself interested in
entertaining the stranger, to whom all this
blithe and CHEEKY intercourse all the cor
dial, hospitable, homelike army ways, were
so odd and new. 1t was tattoo when he
rose to leave, and met poor VIII without
Will, who had twice gone up to Fenton's,
hoping to steal word or two with Kitty,
only to find that such portion of post So
ciety as was not gathered about his mother
and sister was congregated at the colonePs
and then, fatigued by the journey, and
showing plainly the effect of the excite
ment of her arrival, Mrs. Farrar was in
duced to seek her room, while Ellis re-
in ha = n hnt ut
still coming in to bid them welcome home,
and not until long after 10 were the lights
turned down in No. 5, and not until even
later did they CLEAN no longer from the
big house on the edge of the bluff.
Whatever trepidation her friend had felt
as to the effect of this return upon Mrs.
Farrar it was soon evident that it was
returned Lucretia's call and was received
in the familiar rooms, once her own, she
controlled admirably every sign of deep
emotion. She seemed happy in being with
VIII, her idolized boy, and was never tired
of watching him as he strobe or rode away
upon his various duties. An admirable
soldier was Will, as all the officers adj
mitted. Devoted to his duties, full of
snap, spirit and enthusiasm, fine drill
instructor and teacher of the non-commis-
stoned officers school, yet ever handl-
capped by that exuberant boyishness and
by the fact that to save their souls the old
soldiers and their families seemed to find
it absolutely impossible at first to forget
him as "Masther Will" Many of the old
sergeants and their wives had come to pay
their respects to Mrs. Farrar and to talk.
as she loved to hear them talk of the
colonel they loved so well and mourned
so Loyalty. One and all they rejoiced in
saying everything that soldier speech could
frame in praise of their new lieutenant.
their boy officer, their colonel's soldierly
son, even while struggling against the i'm
pulse that ever possessed them to refer to
him as Masther Will, or as he hated still
more to be called, Masther Willie. Little
by little army punctilio had prevailed, and
most of the men had learned to refer to
him respectfully as 1.-The lieutenant" and
to brace up and salute him with all the
gravity and precision lavished on Fenton
or Leale. Even the Irish trumpeter with
whom he had ridden races and played
hockey and gotten into all manner of
mischief about the post in bygone days
McQuirk, at first could not suppress the
affable grin that overspread his freckled
"mug" at sight of his whilom playmate
as full-fedged officer, bearing the Presi-
dents commission. But Mac was saw
agely roasted by Sergeant Stein and other
elders, and did his best to amend. 1t was
Terry Rorke that was incorrigible. Time
and again he broke the rules he laid down
for himself, and as Terry had been the
household fistriker" in the days when it
was Captain Farrar and they first lived at
Frayne, he found especial favor in the
gentle eyes of the widowed mother and
was encouraged to come and see her, for in
all that crowded garrison he alone could
recall her first-born, her handsome, dar-
ling, dashing Royle, when he was boy of
IA. To all the world he was an outcast,
but the mother heart had never yet been