Teddys Button | Page 7

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 think that will help me not to fidget. I promise you I'll be
good to-day.'
And having received this protestation from him, Mrs. John passed into
church with a relieved mind. Teddy's restless little body was a sore trial
to any one who sat next him in church, and many were the lectures that
had been bestowed on him by Sunday-school teacher and pastor,
besides the gentle admonitions of his mother.
As Teddy quietly perched himself on the seat beside his mother, he
murmured to himself, 'Twenty soldiers in front of me, twenty rifles
pointing--I shall stand like a rock--I'll set my teeth, and I shan't even
blink my eyes. Now I see the officer coming--he's going to say,
"Present!" I'm not moving a muscle. Five minutes more they'll give
me--'
His active brain here received a check. There on the opposite side,
facing him, was Nancy, seated between her mother and old Sol. She
was still in her sailor suit, and with her dark mischievous brown eyes
fixed steadily on him, Teddy could not remain unmoved beneath her
gaze for long. His little hands were working nervously in his coat
pockets. Why did she stare at him so? Well, he could stare back, and
then blue eyes and brown confronted each other for some moments
with unblinking defiance in their gaze. At last Teddy's patience gave
way, and twisting up his little features into a most grotesque grimace,
he mounted a hassock to give her the full benefit of it.

Instantly, out came a little red tongue at him, and at this daring piece of
audacity he gasped out loud, 'I hate you!' Then, as all eyes in the
surrounding pews were turned upon him, and his mother's shocked
gaze met his, Teddy crimsoned to the roots of his hair, and taking up a
large Prayer-book, he used it as a shield from his small antagonist
during the remainder of the service. As the congregation were leaving
the church later on, the rector made his way to young Mrs. Platt, who
was lingering talking to a neighbour. He was a grey-haired,
gentle-faced man, with a slow dreamy manner in speaking.
'Mrs. John, what has happened to make your little boy so forget himself
this morning?'
'Indeed, sir, I cannot say. I really thought he was going to be good
to-day.'
'I think he had better come to tea with me this afternoon, and we will
have a little talk together.'
Teddy looked up with awe in his blue eyes. He well knew that this was
the rector's usual practice when any delinquent was brought before his
notice, but it had never yet fallen to his lot to receive the invitation. Mr.
Upton had his own way of doing things, so people said, and he had
greater faith in reasoning with any culprits than scolding them, whether
they were grown men, or women, or children.
Teddy's restless ways in church had been a trial to him for a long time,
and he felt that this morning's action must receive a check. 'Thank you,
sir,' responded Mrs. John; 'he shall come to you after school is over this
afternoon.'
And Teddy, completely sobered, walked home beside his mother
without uttering a word.
At half-past four he stood on the rectory doorsteps looking into the cool
broad hall in front of him, which led out of a glass door at the opposite
end into a brilliant flower garden. Spotless white druggeting covered
the floor and stairs, and everything indoors denoted a careful

housekeeper. Mr. Upton was a widower, and was to a great extent ruled
by two or three old and faithful servants.
As the boy stood there the rector appeared, and led him into his study.
'We shall have half an hour before tea, to have