"I have told you what is true; but my father was a poacher, and they know it; and if they did not punish me, they would him, and transport him, too, if I gave evidence against him, which I must do, if put to my oath. I've told you all I can tell; I must not tell of father, must I?" "No, no, child; I dare say you are right," replied Mrs Chopper. "Now, I don't ask you to tell me, Peter," said Nancy, "for I can guess what has taken place; you and your father have been out poaching, there has been a scuffle with the keepers, and there has been blood shed; and that's the reason why you keep out of the way. Ain't I right?" "You are not far wrong," replied Joey; "but I will not say a word more upon it." "And I won't ask you, my little Peter; there--that's done--and now I shall have a peep out of the window, for it's very close here, Mrs Chopper." Nancy threw the window open and leaned out of it, watching the passers-by. "Mercy on us! here's three soldiers coming up the street with a deserter handcuffed," cried she. "Who can it be? he's a sailor. Why, I do believe it's Sam Oxenham, that belongs to the _Thomas and Mary_ of Sunderland. Poor fellow! Yes, it is him." Joey went to the window, and took his stand by the side of Nancy. "What soldiers are those?" inquired he. "They're not soldiers, after all," replied Nancy; "they are jollies--a sergeant and two privates." "Jollies! what are they?" "Why, marines, to be sure." Joey continued looking at them until they passed under the window, when Nancy, who had a great disgust at anything like arbitrary power, could not refrain from speaking. "I say, master sergeant, you're a nice brave fellow, with your two jollies. D'ye think the young man will kill you all three, that you must put the darbies on so tight?" At this appeal, the sergeant and privates looked up at the window, and laughed when they saw such a pretty girl as Nancy. The eyes of one of the privates were, however, soon fixed on our hero's face, and deeply scrutinising it, when Joey looked at him. As soon as Joey recognised him, he drew back from the window, pale as death, the private still remaining staring at the window. "Why, what's the matter, Peter?" said Nancy; "what makes you look so pale? do you know that man?" "Yes," replied Joey, drawing his breath, "and he knows me, I'm afraid." "Why do you fear?" replied Nancy. "See if he's gone," said Joey. "Yes, he has; he has gone up the street with the sergeant; but every now and then he looks back at this window; but perhaps that's to see me." "Why, Peter, what harm can that marine do you?" inquired Mrs Chopper. "A great deal; he will never be quiet until he has me taken up, and then what will become of my poor father?" continued Joey, with the tears running down his cheeks. "Give me my bonnet, Peter. I'll soon find out what he is after," said Nancy, leaving the window. She threw her bonnet on her head, and ran downstairs.