“That was my opinion also,” I replied.  “You can, therefore, imagine my feelings on passing her one evening in the Folkestone High Street with a Panama hat upon her head (my Panama hat), and a soldier’s arm round her waist.  She was one of a mob following the band of the Third Berkshire Infantry, then in camp at Sandgate.  There was an ecstatic, far-away look in her eyes.  She was dancing rather than walking, and with her left hand she beat time to the music.

“Ethelbertha was with me at the time.  We stared after the procession until it had turned the corner, and then we stared at each other.

“‘Oh, it’s impossible,’ said Ethelbertha to me.

“‘But that was my hat,’ I said to Ethelbertha.

“The moment we reached home Ethelbertha looked for Amenda, and I looked for my hat.  Neither was to be found.

“Nine o’clock struck, ten o’clock struck.  At half-past ten, we went down and got our own supper, and had it in the kitchen.  At a quarter-past eleven, Amenda returned.  She walked into the kitchen without a word, hung my hat up behind the door, and commenced clearing away the supper things.

“Ethelbertha rose, calm but severe.

“‘Where have you been, Amenda?’ she inquired.

“‘Gadding half over the county with a lot of low soldiers,’ answered Amenda, continuing her work.

“‘You had on my hat,’ I added.

“‘Yes, sir,’ replied Amenda, still continuing her work, ’it was the first thing that came to hand.  What I’m thankful for is that it wasn’t missis’s best bonnet.’

“Whether Ethelbertha was mollified by the proper spirit displayed in this last remark, I cannot say, but I think it probable.  At all events, it was in a voice more of sorrow than of anger that she resumed her examination.

“’You were walking with a soldier’s arm around your waist when we passed you, Amenda?’ she observed interrogatively.

“‘I know, mum,’ admitted Amenda, ’I found it there myself when the music stopped.’

“Ethelbertha looked her inquiries.  Amenda filled a saucepan with water, and then replied to them.

“‘I’m a disgrace to a decent household,’ she said; ’no mistress who respected herself would keep me a moment.  I ought to be put on the doorstep with my box and a month’s wages.’

“‘But why did you do it then?’ said Ethelbertha, with natural astonishment.

“’Because I’m a helpless ninny, mum.  I can’t help myself; if I see soldiers I’m bound to follow them.  It runs in our family.  My poor cousin Emma was just such another fool.  She was engaged to be married to a quiet, respectable young fellow with a shop of his own, and three days before the wedding she ran off with a regiment of marines to Chatham and married the colour-sergeant.  That’s what I shall end by doing.  I’ve been all the way to Sandgate with that lot you saw me with, and I’ve kissed four of them—­the nasty wretches.  I’m a nice sort of girl to be walking out with a respectable milkman.’