“‘Well, sir,’ says I, ‘’tis a matter o’ thirty year since I did leave the Darset Yeomanry. I went out wi’ en for fifteen year—ah, I didn’t miss a single trainin’—but when my father died, an’ I did settle down upon the farm, my missus were a bit agen it, so I did give up.’” “Oh, Sampson, whatever made you bring my name into it?” said Mrs. Sampson bashfully. “I’m sure I don’t know whatever the gentleman can ha’ thought.” “It didn’t seem to put en out a bit. “‘Thirty years ago,’ says he, ‘an’ fifteen years before that. How old are you now?’ “I told en I’d be seventy year of age in May. “‘Ah,’ says he, an’ then he looks at me solemn-like for a minute, an’ then he says: ‘Well, Mr. Sampson, I admire your sperret, an’ I’ve no doubt,’ says he, ‘the Queen ’ud be extremely gratified if she knew of the offer you have made. But there are one or two objections—’ “‘Why, sir,’ says I, ‘what’s agen it?’ “‘Why,’ says he, ‘your figure is agen it to begin with.’ “‘Well, sir,’ says I, ‘I know very well I haven’t exactly the kind o’ figure to go climbin’ up kopgees an’ that—I’m not a volunteerin’ for foreign service,’ says I, ‘but I understood as the Queen was axin’ her old soldiers to undertake the de-fence o’ the country, an’ I reckon I could do that so well as another. I can shoot a bit,’ says I. ‘Ye’ll not find many crows about my fields,’ I says, ‘they be too much afeared o’ me and my gun.’ “‘Well said,’ cries he, slapping me on the shoulder. ‘But then there’s your age to think about, Mr. Sampson. Sixty-nine, I think you said.’ “‘Sixty-nine year and nine months, sir,’ says I. “‘Ah,’ he says, ‘that’s the difficulty.’ “‘How so, sir?’ says I. ‘Her Majesty did say as ’twas her old soldiers as was wanted, an’ I be a-comin’ up to my threescore and ten, sir.’ “‘Ah,’ he says again, and looks at me very solemn ‘I’m afraid that won’t do. Now I’ll tell you what you’ll do, Mr. Sampson. Just you go quietly home again, and wait till you’re called upon. I’m much obliged,’ says he, ‘for your handsome offer; you’re a plucky fellow,’ he says, and he shakes me by the hand, ‘an’ if we find we can’t get on without you, you may be sure we will send for you.’ “So he comes wi’ me to the door, an’ the ill-mannered folk as was standin’ there did begin a-laughin’ again so soon as they ketched sight o’ me, but the officer threw up his hand and stopped ’em. “‘Men,’ says he, ‘I’m goin’ to call upon you to give three cheers for this fine old Briton!’—them was the very words he said, I do assure you—’this fine old Briton,’ says he.” “Did he now? Well, that was right down handsome,” cried Annie and Polly together, while Grandma, overcome with emotion, fairly wept. “’Ees, I d’ ’low I thought it kind of him.