“There was not before, Kate; for Mr. Billings told me yesterday morning, and I told you, that the colonel had said you could start at once, and you replied that the captain could not be ready for several days,—­three at least.”

“Well, now he is; and that ends it.  Never mind what changed his mind.”

It was unsafe to trifle with Nellie Travers, as Mrs. Rayner might have known.  She saw that something had occurred to make the captain eager to start at once; and then there was that immediate sending for Mrs. Clancy, the long, secret talk up in Kate’s room, the evident mental disturbance of both feminines on their respective reappearances, and the sudden announcement to her.  While there could be no time to make formal parting calls, there were still some two or three ladies in the garrison whom she longed to see before saying adieu; and then there was Mr. Hayne, whom she had wronged quite as bitterly as anyone else had wronged him.  He was out that day for the first time, and she longed to see him and longed to fulfil the neglected promise. That she must do at the very least.  If she could not see him, she must write, that he might have the note before they went away.  All these thoughts were rushing through her brain as she busied herself about her little room, stowing away dresses and dropping everything from time to time to dart into her sister’s room in answer to some querulous call.  Yet never did she leave without a quick glance from her window up and down the row.  For whom was she looking?

It was just about dusk when she heard crying down-stairs,—­a child, and apparently in the kitchen.  Mrs. Rayner was with the baby, and Miss Travers started for the stairs, calling that she would go and see what it meant.  She was down in the hall before Mrs. Rayner’s imperative and repeated calls brought her to a full stop.

“What is it?” she inquired.

“You come back here and hold baby.  I know perfectly what it is.  It is Kate Clancy; and she wants me.  You can do nothing.”

Too late, madame!  The intervening doors were opened, and in marched cook, leading the poor little Irish girl, who was sobbing piteously.  Mrs. Rayner came down the stairs with all speed, bringing her burly son and heir in her arms.  She would have ordered Nell aloft, but what excuse could she give? and Miss Travers was already bending over the child and striving to still her heart-breaking cries.

“What is it?  Where’s your father?” demanded Mrs. Rayner.

“Oh, ma’am, I don’t know.  I came here to tell the captain.  Shure he’s discharged, ma’am, an’ his heart’s broke entirely, an’ mother says we’re all to go with the captain to-morrow, an’ he swears he’ll kill himself before he’ll go, an’ I can’t find him, ma’am.  It’s almost dark now.”

“Go back and tell your mother I want her instantly.  We’ll find your father.  Go!” she repeated, as the child shrank and hesitated.  “Here,—­the front way!” And little Kate sped away into the shadows across the dim level of the parade.