“Yes.  She soon came to herself, and wanted to tell me all about it; but I would not let her talk, and in a few minutes she dropped off to sleep, and there I left her.  The women tell me she will probably sleep till morning, and will then be as well as ever.  And now I must go and look after my box, or the boys will be pulling it to pieces.”

It was, however, untouched, for in passing the sergeant had told the little crowd that, if they left it alone, he would, on his return, let all see without payment; and during the rest of the afternoon he was fully occupied with successive audiences, being obliged to make his lectures brief, in order that all might have their turn.

After the sergeant had left, James took his hat and went for a long walk in the country, in order to escape the congratulations of the other boys.  The next day little Agnes was perfectly well, and appeared with her grandfather in the seat, far back in the church, which he always occupied on the Sundays he spent at Sidmouth.  On these occasions she was always neatly and prettily dressed, and, indeed, some of the good women of the place, comparing the graceful little thing with their own children, had not been backward in their criticisms on the folly of the old showman, in dressing his child out in clothes fit for a lady.

Chapter 2:  The Showman’s Grandchild.

Three months later the showman again appeared at Sidmouth, but did not set up his box as usual.  Leaving it at his lodging, he went at once with his grandchild to Mrs. Walsham’s.

“I have come, madam,” he said after the first inquiries about the child had been answered, “on a particular business.  It will seem a strange thing to you for a man like me to ask, but things are not quite as they seem, though I can’t explain it now.  But I am beating about the bush, and not getting any nearer.  I have come to ask, madam, whether you would take charge of the child for two years.  Of course I am ready to pay anything that you may think proper.”

“But I don’t take boarders,” Mrs. Walsham said, much surprised at the proposition.  “I only take girls who come in the morning and go away in the afternoon.  Besides, they are all a good many years older than your grandchild.  None of the girls who come to me are under twelve.”

“I know, ma’m, I know; and I am sure you must think it a great liberty on my part to ask such a thing,” the sergeant said apologetically.  “It is not the teaching I want, but just a home for her.”

Mrs. Walsham felt puzzled.  She did, in her heart, feel it to be a liberty.  Surely this wandering showman would find no difficulty in getting his grandchild taken care of among people of his own rank in life.  It did seem most singular that he should seek to place the child with her.  Mrs. Walsham was not given to thinking what her neighbours would say, but she thought of the buzz of comment and astonishment which her taking the charge of this child would excite.  She had been particular in keeping her little school to some extent select, and as it was now as large as she could manage unaided, she was able to make it almost a favour to the farmers’ wives to take their girls.