— though it was her handsome, high-spirited daughter who should have worn the sober garb.

“Not I,” said she, laughing at Boyd. “I’d sooner don jack-boots and be a dragoon — and we would completely represent a holy cause, my husband with his broad-brim and I with my sword. What do you say, Mr. Boyd?”

“I beg of you first to consider the rifle-frock if you must enlist!” urged Boyd, with such fervour that we all laughed at his gallant effort to recruit such beauty for our corps; for even a mental picture of Betsy Hunt in rifle-frock seemed too adorable. Mr. Hunt, entering, smiled in his quiet, embarrassed way; and I thought that this wise and gentle-mannered man must have more than a handful in his spirited young wife, whose dress was anything but plain.