“We’ll slide down the rails instead, we always do when granny is asleep.”

“Not when I am with you, thank you.”

A few minutes afterward, and the boys were standing on either side of the piano listening with delight to the song that has stirred so many boyish hearts: 

“‘Tis a story, what a story, tho’ it never made a noise
Of cherub-headed Jake and Jim, two little drummer boys
Of all the wildest scamps that e’er provoked a sergeant’s eye,
They were first in every wickedness, but one thing could not lie,
And they longed to face the music, when the tidings from afar
Brought the news of wild disaster in a wild and savage war. 
Said the Colonel, ‘How can babies of battle bear the brunt?’
Said the little orphan rascals, ’please Sir, take us to the front! 
And we’ll play to the men in the far-off land,
When their eyes for home are dim;
If the Indians come, they shall hear our drum
In the van where the fight is grim. 
Our lads we know, to the death will go,
If they’re led by Jake and Jim.’

“In the battle, ’mid the rattle, and the deadly hail of lead,
The two were in their glory—­What did they know of dread? 
And fierce the heathen cry arose across the Indian plain,
And ’twas Home, for the bravest there would never be again,
The raw recruits were restless, and they counted not the cost,
And the Colonel shouted, ‘Steady lads, stand fast, or else we’re lost.’ 
A rush! ’twas like an avalanche! a clash of steel and red! 
A shock like mountain thunder, then the reg’ment turned and fled. 
‘Give me the drum, take the fife,’ said Jake,
’And with all your might and main,
Play the old step now, for the reg’ment’s sake
As they scatter along the plain. 
We’ll play them up to the front once more,
Tho’ we never come back again.’

“Then might the world have seen two little dots in red,
Facing the foe, when the rest had turned and fled! 
So young, so brave and gay, while others held their breath,
They played ev’ry inch of the way to meet their death;
And then at last the reg’ment turned, for vengeance ev’ry man
To save the lads they turned and fought as only demons can;
They swept the foe before them across the mountain rim,
But victory that day could never bring back Jake or Jim. 
And they silently stood where the children fell,
Not a word of triumph said,
For they knew who had led as they bowed each head,
And looked at the quiet dead;
That the fight was won, and the reg’ment saved,
By those two little dots in red.”

Miss Bertram stole a glance at the boys’ faces as she finished singing.

With a wriggle and a twist Dudley turned his back upon her; but not before she had seen the blue eyes swimming with tears, and heard a choking sob being hastily swallowed.  Roy stood erect, his little face quivering with emotion, and his usually pale cheek flushed a deep crimson, whilst his small determined mouth and chin looked more resolute and daring than ever.  His hands thrust deep in the pockets of his knickerbockers he looked straight before him and repeated with emphasis,