“Why, there’s a kind of people—­”

“Quakers!” sang out some one.

“Yes, the Quakers!  Don’t they do it all the time!  Of course they do!” With a smile in his wet eyes the lad wheeled upon Victorine:  “Oh, by S’n’ Peter! if that was the only—­”

But the small, compelling hand of the detective faced him round again and with a sudden swell of the general laugh he laughed too.  “He’s trying to behave like Captain Kincaid,” one battery sister tried to tell another, whose attention was on a more interesting matter.

“Here!” the gray man was amiably saying to Charlie.  “It’s your advice that’s too late.  Look.”

Before he had half spoken a hush so complete had fallen on the company that while every eye sought Hilary and Anna every ear was aware that out on the levee road the passing drums had ceased and the brass—­as if purposely to taunt the theatrical spirit of Flora—­had struck up The Ladies’ Man.  With military curtness Kincaid was addressing the score or so of new cannoneers: 

“Corporal Valcour, this squad—­no, keep your partners, but others please stand to the right and left—­these men are under your command.  When I presently send you from here you’ll take them at a double-quick and close up with that regiment.  I’ll be at the train when you reach it.  Captain Mandeville,”—­he turned to the married pair, who were hurriedly scanning the license Miranda had just handed them,—­“I adjure you as a true and faithful citizen and soldier, and you, madam, as well, to testify to us, all, whether that is or is not the license of court for the marriage of Anna Callender to Hilary Kincaid.”

“It is!” eagerly proclaimed the pair.

“Hand it, please, to Charlie.  Corporal, you and your men look it over.”

“And now—­” His eyes swept the throng.  Anna’s hand, trembling but ready, rose shoulder-high in his.  He noted the varied expressions of face among the family servants hurriedly gathering in the doors, and the beautiful amaze of Flora, so genuine yet so well acted.  Radiantly he met the flushed gaze of his speechless cousin.  “If any one alive,” he cried, “knows any cause why this thing should not be, let him now speak or forever hereafter hold his peace.”  He paused.  Constance handed something to her husband.

“Oh, go on,” murmured Charlie, and many smiled.

“Soldiers!” resumed the lover, “this fair godmother of your flag agrees that for all we two want just now Kincaid’s Battery is minister enough.  For all we want is—­” Cheers stopped him.

“The prayer-book!” put in Mandeville, pushing it at him.  The boys harkened again.

“No,” said Kincaid, “time’s too short.  All we want is to bind ourselves, before Heaven and all mankind, in holy wedlock, for better, or worse, till death us do part.  And this we here do in sight of you all, and in the name and sight and fear of God.”  He dropped his glance to Anna’s:  “Say Amen.”