Chapter 8

When a soldier hears the bugle calling he is bound to go even if he would like to have stayed for supper. That is why the soldier went.

"I am glad I am not a soldier," said the old man, "because I do not have to go when the bugle calls."

"No," said the old woman, "but you have to go when I tell you, which is pretty much the same thing."

"Perhaps it is," said the old man.

"And I think," said the old woman, "that it might be just as well for you to go out this evening with the bag and get a few nice little things for breakfast and dinner to-morrow. For when you come to think of it there is no reason why the soldier should not take it into his head to be a red policeman again, and if he did he would run after us when he saw us with the bag. So that we had better get what we want before he changes his mind."

"A very good idea, my dear," said the old man, "give me the bag and I will go out at once."

The old woman gave him the bag and off he went.

He was away a very long time. Indeed he did not get back till nearly midnight. When he set the bag down on the table the old woman could see that he had got a good many things, because the bag bulged so.

"How good of you," she said. "Now show me what you have got."

Then the old man opened the bag. First he pulled out a pretty little kitten with her mother, an old grey cat.

"Very nice," said the old woman, "but we can't cook them."

"You cooked the hens," said the old man.

Then he pulled out a pillow case full of hay.

"Quite nice," said the old woman, "but we can't cook it."

"You cooked the cabbages," said the old man.

Then he pulled out a box full of pieces of broken glass.

"Beautiful!" said the old woman, "but we can't eat it."

"You ate the marmalade fast enough," said the old man.

Then the old woman said, "If you go on talking so foolishly I shall be very cross. Turn that cat and her kitten out at once, burn the hay, and throw the broken glass out of the window."

"And what shall I do with the bag?" said the old man.

"You can do just as you please with the bag," said the old woman; "I am going to bed."

And off she went.

The old man opened the door and turned out the cat and her kitten. Then he burnt the hay a little bit at a time on the fire, and threw the broken glass out of the window.

After doing this he sat down in his chair to think. "What shall I do with the bag?" he said to himself. "My wife said I might do what I pleased with it. Perhaps I had better burn it."

So he cut it in pieces with a knife, and burnt the pieces on the fire.

In the morning when the old woman came downstairs to breakfast she looked on the nail for the bag, but of course it was not there.

"What have you done with the bag?" she called to the old man.

"I have burnt it," said the old man.

"Why did you burn it?" said the old woman.

"Guess," said the old man.

The old woman guessed and guessed and guessed and guessed and guessed.

But she could not guess right, and the old man had to keep on saying, "Guess again, guess again, guess again."

Now why did the old man burn his bag?

You must get your Mamma to tell you.