Half an hour later there was a knock at the front door, and a few
minutes after his mother called him down. He ran down to the parlour,
and there found the showman.

"Oh, I say," the boy broke out, "don't say anything more about it! I do
hate being thanked, and there was nothing in swimming ten yards in a
calm sea. Please don't say anything more about it. I would rather you
hit me, ever so much."

The sergeant smiled gravely, and Mrs. Walsham exclaimed:

"Why didn't you come in and tell me about it, Jim? I could not make out
at first what Mr.--Mr.--"

"Sergeant Wilks, madam."

"What Sergeant Wilks meant, when he said that he had called to tell me
how grateful he felt to you for saving his little grandchild's life. I
am proud of you, Jim."

"Oh, mother, don't!" the boy exclaimed. "It is horrid going on so. If I
had swum out with a rope through the surf, there might be something in
it; but just to jump in at the edge of the water is not worth making a
fuss about, one way or the other."

"Not to you, perhaps, young gentleman, but it is to me," the showman
said. "The child is the light of my life, the only thing I have to care
for in the world, and you have saved her. If it had only been by
stretching out your hand, I should have been equally grateful. However,
I will say no more about it, but I shall not think the less.