again as if no
thought of danger or retreat had ever entered her mind; and as we came
opposite the grocery and a tall man in an officer's uniform strolled out
toward us with a curious, questioning look upon his handsome face, she
gave the word of command to her little brigade in a voice as clear as a
bell:

"'Halt, children!'

"We all stood still as mice, eying the stranger with looks in which fear
and admiration were probably curiously blended, while Aunt Polly, taking
the white flag from her color-bearer, advanced with a firm front to
meet the foe who now, reinforced by several men, stood beside the way,
evidently wondering what this queer parade was about.

"'Sir!' and Aunt Polly's voice trembled perceptibly but she waved the
white flag manfully under his very nose, 'sir, I demand a safe passage
for these innocent children to their different homes.'

"The officer stared, and his mouth twitched mischievously as if he had
hard work to keep from laughing outright. But he was a gentleman; and
when he spoke, he spoke like one.

"'My good woman,' he said kindly, 'these children are nothing to me. If
you wish permission for them to go to their own homes you are welcome to
it, though in what way the matter concerns me I must confess I am at a
loss to imagine."

Then, and not till then, Aunt Polly broke down and sobbed aloud:

"'Run, children,' she cried as soon as she could speak; 'go home just
as fast as you can scud; an' tell your folks,' she added with a gust of
gratitude, 'that there's worse folks in the world than an Englishman.'

"You may be sure that we waited for no further urging; and as we flew,
rather than ran, in the direction of our different homes, I heard the
irrepressible burst of laughter with which the officer and his men
received the grateful spinster's compliment which, to the day of her
death, she loved to repeat whenever she told the thrilling story of
her adventure with the English officer, 'when Hampden was took by the
British in 1814;' always concluding with this candid admission:

"'An' really, now, if he'd 'a' been anybody but an Englishman, an' an
inimy, I should 'a' said that I never sot eyes on a better-built, more
mannerly man, in all my born days.'"

Heigho! Baby Mine!
Now where are you creeping,
With such a rapid pace
across the nursery floor?
Only out to Mamma
who'll give you royal greeting,
With coddling and petting
and kiss