"Why the old scarlet, deary—same as I once wore when I was a soldier, d'ye see?"
"Was you a soldier?" asked Lettie. "I'll tell Hor that, 'cause he wants to be a sailor, an' that's sumthin' like, isn't it?"
"Sailors wears blue, and soldiers red," said Ailie, doubtful of her own information, though she spoke confidently.
"An' they both fights for the country," said Job. "One on land, and t'other on water. That's pretty nigh all the likeness betwixt 'em. Yes, I was a soldier once, but 'twas long ago. I was wounded in a battle, fought long afore you was born—battle of Waterloo," and Job looked round proudly at the picture over the mantel-shelf, with a movement of his hand to his head, a half-salute in memory of old days. "Fought it under him, ye know."
"Do 'ee make him tell Hor all about it," whispered Lettie to Ailie. "'Cause Hor's out after work now, and can't hear."
"So I will, too," said Job, overhearing her, and nodding his head. "And, maybe, I'll want ye all to be soldiers."
"Hor's goin' to be a sailor, he says, an' we can't be soldiers," said Ailie. "Can we, gran'father?"
"Not wearin' a red coat an' carrying a musket nor rifle," said Job Kippis. "Different sort o' soldiers, deary. There's a deal we all have to fight with; but I've got to make ye understand all that. Maybe that's why you was sent to me—because the Master wanted you to learn it," added Job, thoughtfully.
"I shouldn't wonder—I shouldn't."
"There's a deal o' fightin' down in the court," said Ailie.