While every officer of the infantry battalion was ready to admit that Mr. Hayne had rendered invaluable service to the men of the cavalry regiment, they were not so unanimous in their opinion as to how it should be acknowledged and requited by its officers.  No one was prepared for the announcement that the colonel had asked him to dinner and that Blake and Billings were to meet him.  Some few of their number thought it going too far, but no one quite coincided with the vehement declaration of Mrs. Rayner that it was an outrage and an affront aimed at the regiment in general and at Captain Rayner in particular.  She was an energetic woman when aroused, and there was no doubt of her being very much aroused as she sped from house to house to see what the other ladies thought of it.  Rayner’s wealth and Mrs. Rayner’s qualities had made her an undoubted though not always popular leader in all social matters in the Riflers.  She was an authority, so to speak, and one who knew it.  Already there had been some points on which she had differed with the colonel’s wife, and it was plain to all that it was a difficult thing for her to come down from being the authority—­the leader of the social element of a garrison—­and from the position of second or third importance which she had been accorded when first assigned to the station.  There were many, indeed, who asserted that it was because she found her new position unbearable that she decided on her long visit to the East and departed thither before the Riflers had been at Warrener a month.  The colonel’s wife had greeted her and her lovely sister with charming grace on their arrival two days previous to the stirring event of the dinner, and every one was looking forward to a probable series of pleasant entertainments by the two households, even while wondering how long the entente cordiale would last,—­when the colonel’s invitation to Mr. Hayne brought on an immediate crisis.  It is safe to say that Mrs. Rayner was madder than the captain her husband, who hardly knew how to take it.  He was by no means the best liked officer in his regiment, nor the “deepest” and best informed, but he had a native shrewdness which helped him.  He noted even before his wife would speak of it to him the gradual dying out of the bitter feeling that had once existed at Hayne’s expense.  He felt, though it hurt him seriously to make inquiries, that the man whom he had practically crushed and ruined in the long ago was slowly but surely gaining strength even where he would not make friends.  Worse than all, he was beginning to doubt the evidence of his own senses as the years receded, and unknown to any soul on earth, even his wife, there was growing up deep down in his heart a gnawing, insidious, ever-festering fear that after all, after all, he might have been mistaken.  And yet on the sacred oath of a soldier and a gentleman, against the most searching cross-examination, again and again had he most confidently and positively