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We were very sorry they were going, but Oswald, as well as others, looked with envy on those who would soon be allowed–being grown up, and no nonsense about your education–to go and fight for their Queen and country.

Then suddenly Alice whispered to Oswald, and he said:

“All right; but tell him yourself.”

So Alice said to the captain:

“Will you stop next time you pass?”

He said, “I’m afraid I can’t promise that.”

Alice said, “You might; there’s a particular reason.”

He said, “What?” which was a natural remark; not rude, as it is with children.

Alice said:

“We want to give the soldiers a keepsake. I will write to ask my father. He is very well off just now. Look here–if we’re not on the wall when you come by, don’t stop; but if we are, please, PLEASE do!”

The officer pulled his mustache and looked as if he did not quite know; but at last he said “Yes,” and we were very glad, though but Alice and Oswald knew the dark but pleasant scheme at present fermenting in their youthful nuts.

The captain talked a lot to us. At last Noel said:

“I think you are like Diarmid of the Golden Collar. But I should like to see your sword out, and shining in the sun like burnished silver.”

The captain laughed and grasped the hilt of his good blade. But Oswald said, hurriedly:

“Don’t. Not yet. We sha’n’t ever have a chance like this. If you’d only show us the pursuing practice! Albert’s uncle knows it; but he only does it on an arm-chair, because he hasn’t a horse.”

And that brave and swagger captain did really do it. He rode his horse right into our gate when we opened it, and showed us all the cuts, thrusts, and guards. There are four of each kind. It was splendid. The morning sun shone on his flashing blade, and his good steed stood with all its legs far apart and stiff on the lawn. Then we opened the paddock gate and he did it again, while the horse galloped as if upon the bloody battle-field among the fierce foes of his native land, and this was far more ripping still.

Then we thanked him very much, and he went away, taking his men with him. And the guns, of course.

Then we wrote to my father, and he said “Yes,” as we knew he would, and next time the soldiers came by–but they had no guns this time, only the captive Arabs of the desert–we had the keepsakes ready in a wheelbarrow, and we were on the church-yard wall.

And the bold captain called an immediate halt.

Then the girls had the splendid honor and pleasure of giving a pipe and four whole ounces of tobacco to each soldier.

Then we shook hands with the captain and the sergeant and the corporals, and the girls kissed the captain–I can’t think why girls will kiss everybody–and we all cheered for the Queen.

It was grand. And I wish my father had been there to see how much you can do with L12 if you order the things from the Stores.

We have never seen those brave soldiers again.

I have told you all this to show you how we got so keen about soldiers, and why we sought to aid and abet the poor widow at the white cottage in her desolate and oppressedness.

Her name was Simpkins, and her cottage was just beyond the church-yard, on the other side from our house. On the different military occasions which I have remarked upon this widow woman stood at her garden gate and looked on. And after the cheering she rubbed her eyes with her apron. Alice noticed this slight but signifying action.

We feel quite sure Mrs. Simpkins liked soldiers, and so we felt friendly to her. But when we tried to talk to her she would not. She told us to go along with us, do, and not bother her. And Oswald, with his usual delicacy and good breeding, made the others do as she said.