“Then you pipe up ‘God Save the King’ as loud as you can,” he cried.
“I c-c-can’t,” said Dicky, looking around at Jack Bell in the corner. Jack gave him an almost imperceptible wink and nod, which meant: “You’re right; stick to it.”
“But you shall!” roared the sailor.
“But I won’t!” shouted Dicky boldly, and making a dash for the rolling-pin on the dresser, which he seized and flourished stoutly.
The sailor made a dash for Dicky, who, as alert as a monkey, pushed a chair in front of him, over which the sailor fell sprawling. The next minute Dicky gave the window a terrific whack that smashed sash and all, and, scrambling through, took to his heels and was almost home by the time the sailor had got through rubbing his bruised shins.
The Widow Stubbs was scrupulously honest, and her first comment after she had praised Dicky for keeping his word about the rum and refusing to sing “God Save the King” was:—
“But, son, we must pay for the window.”
“Yes, mammy,” said Dicky ruefully; “and I lost three shillings and my hat too.”
That night when Jack Bell came in for his usual chat on the settle, he told Dicky: “You’re right, boy, and if it’s too hard a pull for you and your mammy to pay for the winder, why, Jack Bell has got some of the rhino and you’re welcome to it, for I see how you stuck up to your promise and to your country.”
Just at that minute a knock came at the door, and when Dicky opened it Jacob Dyer walked in. Both the widow and Dicky thought he had come for his money for the window, and the Widow Stubbs began: “Don’t you have any fear, sir, that I won’t pay for what my boy did to-day, and pay it cheerful, to know I’ve got a boy who can keep his word to me, and can’t be frightened into singing ‘God Save the King.’”