the bigger boys answered him.

'I seed her come yesterday in a cab from the town to old Sol at the
turnpike--she and her mother, I reckon. They had two carpet bags and a
box and a poll parrot in a cage. I counted them myself, for I was havin'
a ride behind, and the woman she called Sol "Father," so the little 'un
must be his grandarter!'

'P'raps they've come from 'Mericky,' suggested a small urchin,
capering round on his hands and feet. 'Polls allays comes over the
sea, you know.'

[Illustration: TEDDY TELLS THE STORY OF HIS FATHER'S HEROIC DEATH.]

'She didn't believe me,' murmured Teddy, chewing a wisp of grass
meditatively.

'Gals is no good, never! If she'd been a boy you would 'a fought her, but
I shouldn't care for naught like her, Ted.'

Teddy turned his face upwards to the speaker. 'No, I couldn't have fought
her, Sam, if she'd been a boy. I've promised my mother I won't fight
again till she gives me leave. You see, I fought four boys in one week
last time, and she says she won't have it. I don't see if it is right for
soldiers to fight, why it isn't right for boys!'

'I don't think there's any fellers left for you to fight with, so you're
pretty safe. Besides, it was only Tom Larken, who set them on to try and
get your button from you, and he's gone off to another part of the
country now.'

'I think, p'raps,' went on Teddy slowly, as he turned over on his back
and looked up at the clear blue sky above him, 'that I wasn't quite
true about the bullets. I think it was six bullets and three sword
cuts. I forget when I tell it how many it was; but she said she didn't
believe a word!'

Five o'clock struck by the old church clock close by. Teddy was upon
his feet in an instant, and with a wild whoop and shout he was
scudding across the green, his curls flying in the wind, and his
little feet hardly seeming to touch the ground. There was none in
the village so quick-footed as Teddy, and for daring feats and
downright pluck he held the foremost place. Perhaps this accounted for
his popularity, perhaps it was his marvellous aptitude for telling
stories, many of them wild productions from his fertile brain, but
certain it was that he was the pet and the darling of the village, and
none as yet had resisted his sway.

Over the green, up a shady lane, across two fields, and then, breathless
and panting, Teddy paused before an old-fashioned farmhouse. He passed
his hands lightly through his curls, pulled himsel