When the Squire had completed his rounds, he returned
to the guard-room, and, telling the story of Sylvanus' folly, which
roused the Captain's ire, showed the necessity for new watchwords and
better instruction of sentries.
"It maun be something the lads and all the rest o' us ken weel, Squire.
What think ye o' Cricket and Golf?" asked Mr. Errol.
"I am afraid that Ben Toner might not know these words," put in the
dominie.
"What?" cried Mr. Perrowne, "do you really mean to say that
this--ah--Towner needs to be towld what cricket is?"
"I fear so," Wilkinson answered; with the effect that no heathen could
have fallen lower in the parson's estimation than did Ben.
"I say good, ship-shape words are Starbud and Port," growled the
Captain.
"In Sout Ameriky it was Constituthion and Libertad," suggested Mr.
Terry.
"Pork and Beans 'll no' do; nor Burdock and Blood Bitters; nor Powder
and Shot," said the Squire, ruminating; "for the one ca's up the tither
ower nayteral like. What say ye, Maister Wilkinson?"
Wilkinson was taken aback by the suddenness of the question, and blurted
out what had been only too much in his thoughts; "Idiot and Boy.
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