“Then follow me.” replied Lord George, “and you shall have your wish.”

Barnaby kissed his mother tenderly, and telling her their fortunes were made now, did as he was desired.

They hastened on to St. George’s Fields, where the vast army of men was drawn up in sections.  Doubtless there were honest zealots sprinkled here and there, but for the most part the throng was composed of the very scum and refuse of London.

Barnaby was acclaimed by a man in the ranks, Hugh, the rough hostler of the Maypole, whom Barnaby in his frequent wanderings had long known.

“What! you wear the colour, do you?  Fall in, Barnaby.  You shall march between me and Dennis, and you shall carry,” said Hugh, taking a flag from the hand of a tired man, “the gayest silken streamer in this valiant army.”

“In the name of God, no!” shrieked the widow, who had followed in pursuit and now darted forward.  “Barnaby, my lord, he’ll come back—­Barnaby!”

“Women in the field!” cried Hugh, stepping between them, and holding her off with his outstretched hand.  “It’s against all orders—­ladies carrying off our gallant soldiers from their duty.  Give the word of command, captain.”

The words, “Form!  March!” rang out.

She was thrown to the ground; the whole field was in motion; Barnaby was whirled away into the heart of a dense mass of men, and the widow saw him no more.

Barnaby himself, heedless of the weight of the great banner he carried, marched proud, happy, and elated past all telling.  Hugh was at his side, and next to Hugh came a squat, thick-set personage called Dennis, who, unknown to his companions, was no other than the public hangman.

“I wish I could see her somewhere,” said Barnaby, looking anxiously around.  “She would be proud to see me now, eh, Hugh?  She’d cry with joy, I know she would.”

“Why, what palaver’s this?” asked Mr. Dennis, with supreme disdain.  “We ain’t got no sentimental members among us, I hope.”

“Don’t be uneasy, brother,” cried Hugh, “he’s only talking of his mother.”

“His mother!” growled Mr. Dennis, with a strong oath, and in tones of deep disgust.  “And have I combined myself with this here section, and turned out on this here memorable day, to hear men talk about their mothers?”

“Barnaby’s right,” cried Hugh, with a grin, “and I say it.  Lookee, bold lad, if she’s not here to see it’s because I’ve provided for her, and sent half-a-dozen gentlemen, every one of ’em with a blue flag, to take her to a grand house all hung round with gold and silver banners, where she’ll wait till you come and want for nothing.  And we’ll get money for her.  Money, cocked hats, and gold lace will all belong to us if we are true to that noble gentleman, if we carry our flags and keep ’em safe.  That’s all we’ve got to do.

“Don’t you see, man,” Hugh whispered to Dennis, “that the lad’s a natural, and can be got to do anything if you take him the right way?  He’s worth a dozen men in earnest, as you’d find if you tried a fall with him.  You’ll soon see whether he’s of use or not.”