Rufus had remained at Bridesdale, at the urgent entreaty of his sisters and the Pilgrims; but the sight of the people going to prayer meeting smote his conscience.  He knew his father and mother would be at meetin’ in their own church, and that there would be a good deal of work to do.  Besides he hadn’t brought home the team from Mr. Hislop’s since the bee.  Nothing would stop him, therefore; he shouldered his gun, and, bidding all good bye, started for home.  Nobody was left in the kitchen but the two maids and the two Pilgrims.  Yes, there was one more, namely Mr. Pawkins, who was afeard his duds warn’t dry.  The nettrelized citizen of Kennidy was telling stories, that kept the company in peals and roars of laughter, about an applicant for a place in a paper mill, who was set to chewing a blue blanket into pulp, who was given a bottle of vinegar to sharpen his teeth with, and who was ignominiously expelled from the premises because he didn’t “chaw it dry”; about a bunting billy goat; and a powerful team of oxen, that got beyond the control of their barn-moving driver, and planted the barn on the top of an almost inaccessible hill.  Mr. Pawkins complimented the young women, and drew wonderful depths of knowledge out of Sylvanus and Timotheus.  But, when a vehicle rolled into the stable yard that brought the constable and Maguffin to join the party, the quondam American citizen waxed jubilant, and beheld endless possibilities of amusement.  “Good evenin’, consterble,” said Mr. Pawkins, blandly.

“Good evening, sir, at your service,” replied the pensioner.

“Pawkins is my naum, consterble, kyind er Scotch, I reckin.  They say pawky means sorter cute an’ cunnin’, like in Scotch.  Never was thar myself, to speak on, but hev seed ’em.”

“The Scotch make good soldiers,” said Mr Rigby.

“Yaas; I reckin the oatmeal sorter stiffens ’em up.”

“There are military authorities who assert that the Scotch are the only troops that can reform under fire; but that is a mistake.  In that respect, sir, the Guards are equal to any other Household Troops.”

“Fer haousehold trooeps and reformin’ under fire, you had orter ha seen aour fellers at Bull Run.  When the shooten’ begun, all the Bowery plug uglies, bred to cussin’ and drinkin’ and wuss, dropped ther guns and fell on ther knees a reformin’; then, when they faound they couldn’t reform so suddent, they up on ther two feet and started fer the haoushold.  Eurrup ain’t got nuthin’ ter ekal aour haousehold trooeps.”

“You mistake me, Mr. Pawkins; the Household Troops in infantry are the Guards and Highlanders, whose special duty it is to guard the royal household.”

“Is it big?”

“Is what big, sir?”

“Why, the household!  How many storeys is ther to it besides the attic and basement?  Hev it got a mansard?”

“The Household, sir, dwells in royal palaces of great dimensions.  It is the royal family and their attendants over whom the Guards watch.”