together, but if he's billeted in the Hare and Hounds, or any other
public-house, for that matter, I don't know what he'll do. There's
nothing for them when they come in tired but to sit in the bar or
tap-room and drink. They can't get away from it.' Teddy's brow was
knitted with deep thought.

'I didn't know soldiers drank too much,' he said. 'I thought they never
did anything wrong.'

The corporal smiled. 'It isn't many that is of your opinion,' he said.
'Most folks put us down as a bad lot.'

That evening remained in his memory for long after: the sweet-scented
garden, and the long low kitchen, with the happy family party gathered
round the table; the clumsy efforts of the reticent farmer to make his
guest feel at home; the short, pithy remarks made by Mrs. Platt, and the
gentle, soft-voiced young mother, with the golden-haired boy, continually
asking quaint questions about a soldier's life--all this came back to him
with a keen sense of pleasure in after years. He was only a young fellow
after all, and was touched and gratified by the kindness shown to him,
for it made him think of his own mother in her village home; and when he
took his leave he could hardly express his thanks.

Teddy had been allowed to sit up beyond his usual bedtime, and as he put
his little hand into the big brown one of the young soldier he said, 'Do
you mind telling me your name, corporal?'

'Walter Saxby,' was the ready response.

'And what's the name of the poor old soldier who signed the pledge on New