"Major Vaughan can tell you more about the political state of the
country, and its prospects, than any one else," she went on, "except,
perhaps, Colonel Pepperell. How is it, Major, does he keep peace with
you?"
"No, Mistress Royal, he distances me as far as a race-horse does an old
cob. The cob has its uses, though," he added with a feint of resignation
to circumstances that he waited to hear denied. A flash of amusement
shot over Elizabeth's face.
"When danger is scented from afar, when battles are to be fought, or hot
work to be done, when spirit and daring are needed," she answered, "this
'old cob' that has been spoken of so disrespectfully will turn out a
war-horse clothed with thunder, and swallowing the ground with
fierceness and rage, if everybody else is not equally brave."
"You have hit the nail on the head," said Colonel Pepperell's voice
behind her; "a good telling hit, too; that is Vaughan to the life. When
this war that has just begun here grows hot we we shall hear from him."
"And from you, too," volunteered Sir Temple, who a few minutes before
had been talking with the speaker.
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