described.

Mrs. Sweedle were a widow woman with a big family, besides a aged father
and a brother who suffered with fits. The billetin' orficer was afraid she
wouldn't he able to take us in, but Mrs. Sweedle was willin' and eager.

"Bless their hearts, that I will," she said; "it shall never be said I
turned a soldier from my door. Nobody knows better than I do what soldiers
is in an 'ouse. Always merry and bright and ready to put their 'ands to
anything when a poor woman's work's never done and she's delicate and
liable to the sick-'eadache in the mornin's. There's the week's clothes to
go through the wringer, but I know what soldiers is for a wringer; they
can't leave it alone. And if I 'appens to overlay meself I know there's no
cause to worry about Grandfer's cup o' tea, nor yet Bobby and Tom and
Albert gettin' off to school tidy. Like as not they'll do me more credit
than if I washed 'em meself; there's nobody like a soldier for puttin' a
polish on children."

Mrs. Sweedle overlaid herself the very first mornin', and sent word by
Albert if we would be so kind as make her a cup o' tea when we was makin'
Grandfer's it might save her a doctor; and the wood for the fire was out in
the yard, and she knew, bein' soldiers, we should chop her a barrer-load
while we was about it; and when she crawled downstairs presently the
breakfast things would be washed and put away, as was the 'abit of
soldiers, and very likely the pertaters peeled for dinner.

It bein' a strange 'ouse and we not knowin' where to put our 'ands on
anythin', and, when we'd got the kettle to boil, not bein' able to let it
out of our sight owin' to the youngest little Sweedle wantin' to drink out
of the spout, Jim and me was regler drove. We was as near late for parade