blind remained up. Ruby's face was not at the window, but he kissed his
hand for all that, and smiled, and went his way singing. The air was
the very same he had whistled dumbly that morning, the air that Ruby had
speculated upon. And the words were--

"'Soldier, soldier, will you marry me,
With the bagginet, fife and drum?'
'Oh, no, pretty miss, I cannot marry you,
For I've got no coat to put on.'

"So away she ran to the tailor's shop,
As fast as she could run,
And she bought him a coat of the very very best,
And the soldier clapped it on.

"'Soldier, soldier, will you marry me--'"

His voice died away down the lane.



CHAPTER VII.


THE "JOLLY PILCHARDS."

On the following Saturday night (New Year's Eve) an incident worth
record occurred in the bar-parlour of the "Jolly Pilchards" at
Porthlooe.