The Peace Egg and Other tales | Page 4

guards,' says he; 'I
promised not. But I'm for sentry-duty to-night.' And say what I would
to him, all he had for me was, 'You mustn't speak to a sentry on duty.'
So I says, 'As sure as I live till morning, I'll go to your pa,' for he pays
no more attention to his ma than to me, nor to any one else."

"Please to see that the chair-bed in my dressing-room is moved into
your mistress's bedroom," said the Captain. "I will attend to Master
Robert."
With this Sarah had to content herself, and she went back to the nursery.
Robert was nowhere to be seen, and made no reply to her summons. On
this the unwary nursemaid flounced into the bedroom to look for him,
when Robert, who was hidden beneath a table, darted forth, and
promptly locked her in.
"You're under arrest," he shouted, through the keyhole.
"Let me out!" shrieked Sarah.
"I'll send a file of the guard to fetch you to the orderly room, by and
by," said Robert, "for 'preferring frivolous complaints.'" And he
departed to the farmyard to look at the ducks.
That night, when Robert went up to bed, the Captain quietly locked him
into his dressing-room, from which the bed had been removed.
"You're for sentry-duty to-night," said the Captain. "The carpet-brush is
in the corner. Good-evening."
As his father anticipated, Robert was soon tired of the sentry game in
these new circumstances, and long before the night had half worn away
he wished himself safely undressed and in his own comfortable bed. At
half-past twelve o'clock he felt as if he could bear it no longer, and
knocked at the Captain's door.
"Who goes there?" said the Captain.
"Mayn't I go to bed, please?" whined poor Robert.
"Certainly not," said the Captain. "You're on duty."
And on duty poor Robert had to remain, for the Captain had a will as
well as his son. So he rolled himself up in his father's railway-rug, and
slept on the floor.

The next night he was very glad to go quietly to bed, and remain there.
IN THE NURSERY.
The Captain's children sat at breakfast in a large, bright nursery. It was
the room where the old bachelor had died, and now her children made
it merry. This was just what he would have wished.
They all sat round the table, for it was breakfast-time. There were five
of them, and five bowls of boiled bread-and-milk smoked before them.
Sarah (a foolish, gossiping girl, who acted as nurse till better could be
found) was waiting on them, and by the table sat Darkie, the black
retriever, his long, curly back swaying slightly from the difficulty of
holding himself up, and his solemn hazel eyes fixed very intently on
each and all of the breakfast bowls. He was as silent and sagacious as
Sarah was talkative and empty-headed. The expression of his face was
that of King Charles I. as painted by Vandyke. Though large, he was
unassuming. Pax, the pug, on the contrary, who came up to the first
joint of Darkie's leg, stood defiantly on his dignity (and his short
stumps). He always placed himself in front of the bigger dog, and made
a point of hustling him in doorways and of going first down-stairs. He
strutted like a beadle, and carried his tail more tightly curled than a
bishop's crook. He looked as one may imagine the frog in the fable
would have looked, had he been able to swell himself rather nearer to
the size of the ox. This was partly due to his very prominent eyes, and
partly to an obesity favoured by habits of lying inside the fender, and of
eating meals proportioned more to his consequence than to his hunger.
They were both favourites of two years' standing, and had very nearly
been given away, when the good news came of an English home for the
family, dogs and all.
Robert's tongue was seldom idle, even at meals. "Are you a
Yorkshirewoman, Sarah?" he asked, pausing, with his spoon full in his
hand.
"No, Master Robert," said Sarah.
"But you understand Yorkshire, don't you? I can't, very often; but

Mamma can, and can speak it, too. Papa says Mamma always talks
Yorkshire to servants and poor people. She used to talk Yorkshire to
Themistocles, Papa said, and he said it was no good; for though
Themistocles knew a lot of languages, he didn't know that. And
Mamma laughed, and said she didn't know she did."--"Themistocles
was our man-servant in Corfu," Robin added, in explanation. "He stole
lots of things, Themistocles did; but Papa found him out."
Robin now made a rapid attack on his bread-and-milk, after which he
broke out again.
"Sarah, who is that tall old gentleman at