They walked as fast as they could, and soon met a company of soldiers. They were gayly dressed, with beautiful feathers in their caps and carried bright guns on their shoulders.
In front marched two drummers and fifers. How they beat their drums and played their fifes! What lively music they made! Daffydowndilly thought he would like to follow them to the end of the world.
“If I were a soldier,” he thought, “Mr. Toil would never dare to look me in the face.”
“Quick step! Forward march!” shouted a gruff voice.
Daffydowndilly started to run.
“There he is again,” he cried. “I know his voice.”
Daffydowndilly pointed to the captain. He was, indeed, the very image of Mr. Toil. To be sure he wore a cap and feather, and carried a sword instead of a stick. But Daffydowndilly was sure it was his old schoolmaster.
“You are mistaken again, my little friend,” said the stranger. “This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but another brother of his. He is a soldier and has been in the army all his life. You and I need not fear him.”
“Well,” said Daffydowndilly, “I’m glad to hear it; but, if you please sir, I don’t want to see the soldiers any more.”
On they went and, by-and-by, came to a house by the roadside. They could hear the sound of a fiddle within and, through the open doorway could see boys and girls dancing. They were having a merry time. Daffydowndilly thought he had never seen anything half so pretty.