rifle; and the bugle-horns of the various regiments sounding prettily at intervals, and the fifers and drummers down by the river at distant morning practice.

“You love best the bellowing conch-horn of the rifles,” observed Lana to Lois, with a touch of her old-time impudence.

“I?” exclaimed Lois.

“You once told me that every blast of it sets you a-trembling,” insisted Lana. “Naturally I take it that you quiver with delight — having some friend in that corps — — ”

“Lana! Have done, you little baggage!”

“Lord!” said Lana. “‘Twas Major Parr I meant. What does an infant Ensign concern such aged dames as you and I?”