and shelter to the army of the land!"

"_Thy_ advice is cheap, Wattie!" cried several voices sarcastically,
"thou and thy tiny wife escape all this trouble finely. For the general
would as soon dream of quartering a soldier on dwarfs as on the sparrows
that live on the housetops!"

"And what if we are small," retorted Wattie, waxing scarlet, "we have
never shirked from our duty yet, and never intend to do so."

This boast of the little man's had the effect of silencing some of the
most dissatisfied; and then the people of Langaffer dispersed for the
night, every head being full of the morrow's preparations.

"Eh, Wattie dear," said Mattie to her husband, when the two were
retiring to sleep in their cosy little house, "we may bless ourselves
this night that we are not reckoned amongst the big people, and that our
cottage is so small no full-grown stranger would try to enter it."

"But we must do something, Mattie dear," said Wattie. "You can watch the
women washing and cooking all day to-morrow, whilst I encourage the men
in the market-place and on the bridge. These are great times, Mattie!"

"Indeed they are, Wattie dear." And so saying, the little couple fell
fast asleep.

The following morning Langaffer village presented a lively picture of
bustle and excitement. Soldiers in gaudy uniforms, and with gay-coloured
banners waving in the breeze, marched in to the sound of trumpet and
drum. How their spears and helmets glittered in the sunshine, and what a
neighing and prancing their steeds made in the little market-square! The
men and women turned out to receive them, the children clapped their
hands with delight, and the village geese cackled loudly to add to the
stir.

Wattie was there looking on, with his hands in his pockets. But nobody
heeded him now. They were all too busy, running here, running there,
hastening to and fro, carrying long-swords and shields, holding horses'
heads, stamping, tramping, scolding and jesting. Little Wattie was more
than once told to stand aside, and more than once got pushed about and
mixed up with the throng of idle children, whose juvenile curiosity kept
them spell-bound, stationed near the village inn.

Wattie began to feel lonely in the midst of the commotion. A humiliating
sense of his own weakness and uselessness crept over him; and the poor
little dwarf turned away from it all, and wandered out of the village,
far away through the meadows, and into a lonely wood.

On a