v.109-11.
 
A week passed in the usual routine of a garrison. Mabel was becoming used to a
situation that, at first, she had found not only novel, but a little irksome,
and the officers and men, in their turn, gradually familiarized to the presence
of a young and blooming girl, whose attire and carriage had that air of modest
gentility about them, which she had obtained in the family of her patroness,
annoyed her less by their ill concealed admiration, while they gratified her by
the respect which, she was fain to think, they paid her on account of her
father; but which, in truth, was more to be attributed to her own modest, but
spirited deportment, than to any deference for the worthy serjeant.
    Acquaintances made in a forest, or in any circumstances of unusual
excitement, soon attain their limits. Mabel found one week's residence at
Oswego, sufficient to determine her, as to those with whom she might be
intimate, and those whom she ought to avoid. The sort of neutral position
occupied by her father, who was not an officer while he was so much more than a
common soldier, by keeping her aloof from the two great classes of military
life, lessened the number of those whom she was compelled to know, and made the
duty of decision comparatively easy. Still she soon discovered that there were a
few, even among those that could aspire to a seat at the commandant's table, who
were disposed to overlook the halbert, for the novelty of a well turned figure
and of a pretty, winning face, and by the end of the first two or three days,
she had admirers even among the gentlemen. The quarter-master, in particular, a
middle aged soldier, who had more than once tried the blessings of matrimony,
but was now a widower, was evidently disposed to increase his intimacy with the
Serjeant, though their duties often brought them together, and the youngsters
among his messmates did not fail to note that this man of method, who was a
Scotchman of the name of Muir, was much more frequent in his visits to the
quarters of his subordinate than had formerly been his wont. A laugh, or a joke,
in honor of the Serjeant's daughter, however, limited their strictures, though
Mabel Dunham was soon a toast that even the ensign or the lieutenant did not
disdain to give.
    At the end of a week, Duncan of Lundie sent for Serjeant Dunham, after
evening roll call, on business of a nature that, it was understood,