is men to battle is
still preserved in the family castle in England," explained Parmalee.
"It went with him on all his voyages. It beat the men to quarters in
the fight with the Spanish Armada and in all his battles on the Spanish
Main, when, to use his own words, he was 'singeing the whiskers of the
King of Spain.' He was buried at sea in the West Indies, and the drum
beat taps when his body was lowered into the waves.

"The story goes that when Drake was dying he ordered that the drum
should be sent back to England. Whenever the country should be in
mortal danger, his countrymen were to beat that drum, and Drake's
spirit would come back and lead them to victory."

"And have they ever done it?" asked Ruth, intensely interested.

"Twice," replied Parmalee. "Once when the Dutch fleet entered the
Thames with a broom at the masthead to show that they were going to
sweep the British from the seas. They beat it again when Nelson broke
the sea power of Napoleon at Trafalgar.

"Here's what an English writer supposes Drake to have said when he was
dying:

'Take my drum to England, hang it by the shore,
Strike it when your powder's running low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port of heaven
And drum them up the Channel, as we drummed them long ago.'"

"How stirring that is!" cried Ruth, clapping her hands.

"Yes," admitted Drew, a little dryly. "They must have forgotten to
beat it though at the time of the American Revolution."

It was a discordant note and all felt it.

"Oh, how horrid of you!" exclaimed Ruth. "You take all the romance out
of the story."

"I'm sorry," said Drew, instantly penitent.

"I don't believe you are a bit," declared Ruth. "And Mr. Parmalee told
that story so beautifully," she added, with a wicked little desire to
punish Drew.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," protested Drew, to appease his
divinity. "Put any penance on me you like. I'll sit in sackcloth and
put ashes on my head if you say so, and you'll never hear a whimper."

"He seems to be suffering horribly," said Parmalee, a bit
sarcastically, "and you know, Miss Ruth, that cruel and unusual
punishments are forbidden by the Constitution. I think you'd better
forgive him."

Ruth laughed and the tension was broken. But there was still a little
feeling of restraint, and after a few minutes Parmalee excused himself
and strolled away.

Ruth kept on stitching busily, her face bent studiously over her work