'What is it about, sonny?'
'Father's button.' The tone was drowsy, and seeing his eyelids droop heavily Mrs. John said no more, only breathed a prayer that her little son might fight as bravely for Christ's honour as he did for that of his father's button.
CHAPTER III
A Recruiting Sergeant
It was Sunday morning. Along a sweet-scented lane, with shady limes overhead and honeysuckle and wild roses growing in profusion on the hedges at each side, walked Teddy's mother, holding her little son tightly by the hand. The bells of the village church were ringing out for the service, and groups of two and three were passing in at the old lych gate. Mrs. John was talking in her sweet clear voice to her boy, and he, letting his restless blue eyes rove to and fro, noting every bird on the hedges and every flower in the path, kept bringing them back to his mother's face with a dreamy upward gaze. 'I will try, mother, I really will. I will keep my hands tight in my pockets, and my feet close together; I will pretend I'm going to be shot by a file of soldiers, and then I really think that will help me not to fidget. I promise you I'll be good to-day.'
And having received this protestation from him, Mrs. John passed into church with a relieved mind. Teddy's restless little body was a sore trial to any one who sat next him in church, and many were the lectures that had been bestowed on him by Sunday-school teacher and pastor, besides the gentle admonitions of his mother.
As Teddy quietly perched himself on the seat beside his mother, he murmured to himself, 'Twenty soldiers in front of me, twenty rifles pointing—I shall stand like a rock—I'll set my teeth, and I shan't even blink my eyes. Now I see the officer coming—he's going to say, "Present!" I'm not moving a muscle. Five minutes more they'll give me—'
His active brain here received a check. There on the opposite side, facing him, was Nancy, seated between her mother and old Sol. She was still in her sailor suit, and with her dark mischievous brown eyes fixed steadily on him, Teddy could not remain unmoved beneath her gaze for long. His little hands were working nervously in his coat pockets. Why did she stare at him so? Well, he could stare back, and then blue eyes and brown confronted each other for some moments with unblinking defiance in their gaze. At last Teddy's patience gave way, and twisting up his little features into a most grotesque grimace, he mounted a hassock to give her the full benefit of it.
Instantly, out came a little red tongue at him, and at this daring piece of audacity he gasped out loud, 'I hate you!' Then, as all eyes in the surrounding pews were turned upon him, and his mother's shocked gaze met his, Teddy crimsoned to the roots of his hair, and taking up a large Prayer-book, he used it as a shield from his small antagonist during the remainder of the service. As the congregation were leaving the church later on, the rector made his way to young Mrs. Platt, who was lingering talking to a neighbour. He was a grey-haired, gentle-faced man, with a slow dreamy manner in speaking.
'Mrs. John, what has happened to make your little boy so forget himself this morning?'