Such callousness was to Janice a source of indignation, and as she debated whether she should wake the slumberer and make her explanation, or punish his apathy by letting him sleep, Mrs. Meredith’s voice calling her name in a not-to-be-misunderstood tone turned the balance, and, flying up the servants’ stairway, Janice was able to answer her mother’s third call from her own room.  Worn out by excitement, worry, and physical fatigue, the girl, like the soldier, soon found oblivion from both past and future.

It was well toward morning when a finish was made to the night’s doings, and the early habits of the household were for once neglected to such an extent that the dragoons at last lost patience and roused Peg and Sukey with loudly shouted demands for breakfast,—­a racket which served to set all astir once more.

With the conclusion of the morning meal, Janice rose from the table and went toward the kitchen,—­an action which at once caused Mrs. Meredith to demand:  “Whither art thou going, child?”

Facing about, the girl replied with some show of firmness:  “’T is but fair that Colonel Brereton should know I had no hand in his captivation; and I have a right to tell him so.”

“Thou shalt do nothing of the sort,” denied Mrs. Meredith.  “Was not thy conduct last evening indelicate enough, but thou must seek to repeat it?”

Janice, with her hand on the knob, began to sob. “’T is dreadful,” she moaned, “after his doing what he did for us at York, and later, that he should think I had a hand in his capture.”

“Tush, Jan!” ejaculated the squire, fretfully, the more that his conscience had already secretly blamed him.  “No gratitude I owe the rogue, if both sides of the ledger be balanced.  ’T is he brought about the scrape that led to my arrest.”

“Ay,” went on Mrs. Meredith, delighted to be thus supported, “I have small doubt thy indelicacy with him will land us all in prison.  Such folly is beyond belief, and came not from my family, Mr. Meredith,” she added, turning on her husband.

“Well, well, wife; all the folly in the lass scarce comes from my side, for ’t is to be remembered that ye were foolish enough to marry me,” suggested the squire, placably, his anger at his daughter already melted by the sight of her distress.  “Don’t be too stern with the child; she is yet but a filly.”

“Thee means but a silly,” snapped Mrs. Meredith, made the more angry by his defence of the girl.  “Men are all of a piece, and cannot hold anger if the eyes be bright, or the waist be slim,” she thought to herself wrathfully, quite forgetful of the time when that very tendency in masculine kind had been to her one of its merits.  “Set to on the quilt, girl, and see to it that there’s no sneaking to the kitchen.”

Scarcely had Janice, obedient to her mother’s behest, seated herself at the big quilting-frame, when Lord Clowes joined her.

“They treat ye harsh, Miss Janice,” he remarked sympathetically; “but ’t is an unforgiving world, as I have good cause to wot.”