"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.
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