Beck laid down her stocking, and her eyes sparkled with delight.

“But that’s not all, old girl, he has risen from the ranks—­his commission has been just made out, and he is now a commissioned officer in his majesty’s service.  But I knew it would come to that.  Didn’t I say so, old comrade, eh?”

“Indeed you did, Sam,” replied his wife; “and I thought as much myself.  There was something about that boy beyond the common.”

“Ay, you may say that, girl; but who found it out first?  Why, I did; but the thing was natural; it’s all the heart of man—­when that’s in the right place nothing will go wrong.  What do you say, friend Dunphy?  Did you think it would ever come to this?”

“Troth, I did not, Mr. Roberts; but it’s you he may thank for it.”

“God Almighty first, Dunphy, and me afterwards.  Well, he shan’t want a father, at all events; and so long as I have a few shiners to spare, he shan’t want the means of supporting his rank as a British officer and gentleman should.  There’s news for you, Dunphy.  Do you hear that, you old dog—­eh?”

“It’s all the heart of man, Sam,” observed his wife, eying him with affectionate admiration.  “When the heart’s in the right place, nothing will go wrong.”

Now, nothing gratified Sam so much as to hear his own apothegms honored by repetition.

“Eight, girl,” he replied; “shake hands for that.  Dunphy, mark the truth of that.  Isn’t she worth gold, you sinner?”

“Troth she is, Mr. Roberts, and silver to the back o’ that.”

“What?” said Sam, looking at him with comic surprise.  “What do you mean by that, you ferret?  Why don’t you add, and ‘brass to the back of that?’ By fife and drum, I won’t stand this to Beck.  Apologize instantly, sir.”  Then breaking into a hearty laugh—­“he meant no offence, Beck,” he added; “he respects and loves you—­I know he does—­as who doesn’t that knows you, my girl?”

“What I meant to say, Mr. Roberts—­”

“Mrs. Roberts, sir; direct the apology to herself.”

“Well, then, what I wanted to say, Mrs. Roberts, was, that all the gold, silver, and brass in his majesty’s dominions—­(God bless him! parenthetice, from Sam)—­couldn’t purchase you, an’ would fall far short of your value.”

“Well done—­thank you, Dunphy—­thank you, honest old Dunphy; shake hands.  He’s a fine old fellow, Beck, isn’t he, eh?”

“I’m very much obliged to you, Mr. Dunphy; but you overrate me a great deal too much,” replied Mrs. Roberts.

“No such thing, Beck; you’re wrong there, for once; the thing couldn’t be done—­by fife and drum! it couldn’t; and no man has a better right to know that than myself—­and I say it.”

Sam, like all truly brave men, never boasted of his military exploits, although he might well have done so.  On the contrary, it was a subject which he studiously avoided, and on which those who knew his modesty as well as his pride never ventured.  He usually cut short such as referred to it, with: