“They’re not soldiers, after all,” replied Nancy; “they are jollies—a sergeant and two privates.”
“Jollies! what are they?”
“Why, marines, to be sure.”
Joey continued looking at them until they passed under the window, when Nancy, who had a great disgust at anything like arbitrary power, could not refrain from speaking.
“I say, master sergeant, you’re a nice brave fellow, with your two jollies. D’ye think the young man will kill you all three, that you must put the darbies on so tight?”
At this appeal, the sergeant and privates looked up at the window, and laughed when they saw such a pretty girl as Nancy. The eyes of one of the privates were, however, soon fixed on our hero’s face, and deeply scrutinising it, when Joey looked at him. As soon as Joey recognised him, he drew back from the window, pale as death, the private still remaining staring at the window.
“Why, what’s the matter, Peter?” said Nancy; “what makes you look so pale? do you know that man?”
“Yes,” replied Joey, drawing his breath, “and he knows me, I’m afraid.”
“Why do you fear?” replied Nancy.
“See if he’s gone,” said Joey.