"It is the sergeant," one of the boys exclaimed. "I wonder whether he
has got a fresh set of views? The last were first-rate ones."

The sergeant gave a friendly nod to the boys as he passed, and then,
turning up the main street from the beach, went along until he came to
a shaded corner, and there stopped. The boys had all got up and
followed him, and now stood looking on with interest at his
proceedings. The little girl had climbed out of her basket as soon as
he stopped, and after asking leave, trotted back along the street to
the beach, and was soon at play among the seaweed and stones.

She was a singularly pretty child, with dark blue eyes, and brown hair
with a touch of gold. Her print dress was spotlessly clean and neat; a
huge flapping sunbonnet shaded her face, whose expression was bright
and winning.

"Well, boys," the sergeant said cheerfully, "how have you been getting
on since I was here last? Nobody drowned, I hope, or come to any ill.
Not that we must grumble, whatever comes. We have all got to do our
duty, whether it be to march up a hill with shot and shell screaming
and whistling round, as I have had to do; or to be far out at sea with
the wind blowing fit to take the hair off your head, as comes to your
lot sometimes; or following the plough from year's end to year's end,
as happens to some. We have got to make the best of it, whatever it is.

"I have got a grand new set of pictures from Exeter. They came all the
way down from London town for me by waggon. London Bridge, and Windsor
Castle, with the flag flying over it, telling that the king--God bless
his gracious majesty--is at home.