e garden, as vigorously as if the events of the
previous day had been a mere dream. When he saw them coming, he
stuck his spade into the ground and went forward to meet them.

"God bless your honors, but I'm glad to see you again; and to thank
you for saving my life, which them bastes had made up their minds
they were going to have. I ain't good at talking, your honors; but
if it's the last drop of my blood that would be of any use to you,
you'd be heartily welcome to it."

"I am very glad we arrived in time, Tim," Ralph said. "And it's
lucky for you that you shouted 'Hurrah for old Ireland!' as you
went down; for of course we had no idea you were a countryman and,
although we were disgusted at the brutality of that cowardly mob,
we could hardly have interfered between them and a German spy.

"What are you thinking of doing now? It will hardly be safe for you
to travel through France while this madness about spies lasts for,
with your broken French, you would be getting taken up continually."

"I'm not thinking of it at all, your honor," the Irishman said.
"The master has been telling me that your honors are starting for
the war, and so I've made up my mind that I shall go along wid ye."

The boys laughed.

"You are not in earnest, Tim?"

"As sure as the Gospels, your honor I've served five years in the
Cork Militia, and wore the badge as a marksman; and so I mean to
'list, and go as your honors' sarvint."

"But you can't do that, Tim, even if we would let you," Ralph
laughed. "There won't be any servants at all."

"Sure, your honor is mistaken, entirely," Tim said, gravely. "In
the sarvice, a soldier is always told off as a sarvint for each
officer."

"But we are not going as officers, Tim," Percy said. "We are going
as simple soldiers."

"What! Going as privates?" Tim Doyle said, in astonishment. "Does
your honor mane to say that you are going to shoulder a firelock,
and just go as privates?"

"That's it, Tim. You see, this is not a regular regiment; it is a
corps of irregulars, and more than half the privates are
gentlemen."

"Holy Mother!" ejaculated Tim, in astonishment, "did one ever hear
of the like?"

Then, after a pause:

"Then your honor will want a sarvint more than iver. Who is to
clean your boots, and to pipeclay your belts; to wash your linen,
to clean your firelock, and cook your dinners, and pitch your tent,
if you don't have a sarvint? The thing's against nature, entirely."

"We s