“Respectful and reposeful,” “happy and good,” “laddies dear,” and “Willy” floated unheeded over the tide of battle.
Then somebody (reports afterwards differed as to who it was) rushed out of the door into the field and there the battle was fought to a finish. From there the Band of Hope (undismissed) reluctantly separated to its various homes, battered and bruised, but blissfully happy.
Mrs. Brown was anxiously awaiting William’s return.
When she saw him she gasped and sat down weakly on a hall chair.
“William!”
“I’ve not,” said William quickly, looking at her out of a fast-closing eye, “I’ve not been playing at either of them—not those what you said I’d not to.”
“Then—what——?”
“It was—it was—‘Tamers an’ Crocerdiles,’ an’ we played it at the Band of Hope!”