Teddys Button | Page 6

firm hold with her small hands, and swayed to and fro, calling out excitedly, 'Furl the main-sail! Stand by, lads--steady--starboard hard! Port your helm! Rocks to leeward! Reef the top-sail! Breakers ahead! Yo ho!'
Teddy looked on, awed by these nautical terms, which seemed to slip so easily from her lips. To him they seemed wonderfully clever, but he was not one to stand aside long in a scene of excitement, and with one of his wild war whoops he rushed forward.
'On, boys! Charge! Hurrah!'
The gate rocked violently, and Nancy began to feel her position was a perilous one. All the little people were screaming at the top of their voices, when suddenly, in the midst of the din, appeared old Sol.
'What now! Who are these trying to break one of Her Majesty's gates down? Be off, you young ruffians! Teddy Platt, you're at the bottom of all the mischief brewing in the parish. I'll get my big stick out and give you a thrashing before I've done with you.'
Old Sol's words were fierce, but the boys knew he had the softest heart in the village, and they stood their ground. 'It's all the button-boy,' said Nancy eagerly, as she descended from her perch, and laid her little hand confidingly on the old man's arm. 'He brought these boys up to fight me, but I was up the mast, and they couldn't shake me off!'
'We told you we wouldn't fight a girl,' protested Teddy indignantly; 'you don't speak the truth.'
'Well, what did you bring the boys for?' demanded the small maiden severely.
'We came,' put in Sam boldly, 'to tell you that if you were so cheeky you would soon get into trouble. We ain't going to stand sauce from you.'
'What has the little lass been doing, you young scoundrels?'
'They're only boys, grandfather; let us come in to mother, and leave them. They're the rudest boys I've ever seen, and the button-boy is the worst, and his button isn't worth a farthing!'
There was a yell from all three boys at this.
'That's it!' cried Carrots excitedly. 'It's the button she's so cheeky about. We ain't going to have Teddy's button laughed at. We won't stand it, Sol--we won't!'
'It shows she don't know nothing, or she wouldn't talk so. She's just a baby, that's what she is.'
'Why, she doesn't believe father's story is true, Sol! You know it is, don't you?'
'She isn't as old as the button itself.'
'Ha! ha! she wasn't born when it was in battle. Much she knows about it!'
Sol had difficulty in quieting the indignant voices.
'Lookee here, you boys, go home and leave my little lass to me; she knows nothing about the button. I'll tell her the story, and then she won't laugh at it any more. Ay, I remember seeing your father, youngster. He was a brave man, he was, but he would never have made war against little maids like this. Shame on you; get you home! Get you gone, I say, or I'll bring my stick out.'
'She's been told the story. She listened, and she laughed. She ought to say she's sorry.'
Teddy stood with his legs wide apart, and his hands in his pockets. His tone was severe.
'I'll never, never, never say I'm sorry. I'm glad of what I said. I don't believe a word of it!'
And with this parting shot Nancy ran into the cottage, and the boys returned to the village more slowly than they came.
'Mother,' said Teddy that night, as his mother bent down for a 'good-night' kiss, 'I haven't been good to-day, and I don't feel good now. I feel, when I think it over, so angry inside.'
'What is it about, sonny?'
'Father's button.' The tone was drowsy, and seeing his eyelids droop heavily Mrs. John said no more, only breathed a prayer that her little son might fight as bravely for Christ's honour as he did for that of his father's button.
CHAPTER III
A Recruiting Sergeant
It was Sunday morning. Along a sweet-scented lane, with shady limes overhead and honeysuckle and wild roses growing in profusion on the hedges at each side, walked Teddy's mother, holding her little son tightly by the hand. The bells of the village church were ringing out for the service, and groups of two and three were passing in at the old lych gate. Mrs. John was talking in her sweet clear voice to her boy, and he, letting his restless blue eyes rove to and fro, noting every bird on the hedges and every flower in the path, kept bringing them back to his mother's face with a dreamy upward gaze. 'I will try, mother, I really will. I will keep my hands tight in my pockets, and my feet close together; I will pretend I'm going to be shot by a file of soldiers, and then I really