"And you had your way," Mrs. Walsham said, smiling, "though it was with
some difficulty."

"I expected it would be difficult, ma'am; but I made up my mind to
that, and had you kept on refusing I should, as a last chance, have
told you whose child she was."

"But why me?" Mrs. Walsham asked. "Why were you so particularly anxious
that she should come to me, of all people?"

The sergeant smiled.

"It's difficult to tell you, ma'am, but I had a reason."

"But what was it?" Mrs. Walsham persisted.

The sergeant hesitated.

"You may think me an old fool, ma'am, but I will tell you what fancy
came into my mind. Your son saved Aggie's life. He was twelve years
old, she was five, seven years' difference."

"Why, what nonsense, sergeant!" Mrs. Walsham broke in with a laugh.
"You don't mean to say that fancy entered your head!"

"It did, ma'am," Sergeant Wilks said gravely. "I liked the look of the
boy much. He was brave and modest, and a gentleman. I spoke about him
to the fishermen that night, and everyone had a good word for him; so I
said to myself, 'I can't reward him for what he has done directly, but
it may be that I can indirectly.'