uspended from a
string in front of the fire, when there was a sharp knock at the door,
and the footman from the Hall appeared.

'The master wants you to let the youngster come up with me now and
speak to him.'

'What about?' questioned Mrs. John, rather alarmed at this summons, and
wondering if Teddy had been up to mischief.

'He won't keep him long.' Then, as excited Teddy began pulling on his
great-coat, he whispered something into his mother's ear, which had the
effect of completely reassuring her, and bringing a pleased smile about
her lips. Teddy was delighted to go up to the Hall, and he trotted along
by the side of the tall young footman, keeping up a brisk conversation
as he went.

'I shall never be a footman,' he was asserting; 'I couldn't keep my
legs so stiff. You're always like the soldiers when they stand at
Attention. Don't you never kick your legs out in the kitchen, or have
you got stiff knees?'

'I can kick out as much as I like,' responded the young man, in rather an
offended tone.

'Don't you think it's nicer to be a soldier? Wouldn't you like to be
one?'

'No; their grub is something shocking, and they live like cattle!'

Teddy would not allow this, and the discussion began to get somewhat
heated, when their arrival at the house put an end to it.

'I say, just tell me, is the colonel angry?' asked Teddy, as looking into
the large, brightly lighted hall, he suddenly felt his diminutive size.

'Not he. Wipe your feet, and take your cap off.'

Teddy stepped in upon the soft rugs almost on tiptoe, and the colonel
himself came out into the hall to meet him. 'Come in, my little man, and
don't be frightened.'

Teddy held his head erect as he followed the colonel into a bright,
cheery room, where a group of ladies and gentlemen were round the fire
enjoying their cup of five o'clock tea.

Mrs. Graham came forward and gave him a kindly greeting.

'This is our would-be soldier,' said Colonel Graham--'the "button-boy,"
as I hear he is called. Some of you remember his story told in our
schoolroom to the regiment passing through in the summer, and we weren't
surprised to hear of his narrow escape from death from trying to regain
his button. But perhaps you've forgotten all about it, youngster? A
button isn't worth much sorrow after the first pang of its loss is over.'

Teddy's face was a picture: the blood rushed up to his forehead, his eyes
flashed, and with clenched hands he said boldly, 'Do y