Sidmouth was one of his regular halting places, and, indeed, he visited it more often than any other town on his beat.  There was always a room ready for him there, in the house of a fisherman’s widow, when he arrived on the Saturday, and he generally stopped till the Monday.  Thus he had come to know the names of most of the boys of the place, as well as of many of the elders; for it was his custom, of a Saturday evening, after the little one was in bed, to go and smoke his pipe in the taproom of the “Anchor,” where he would sometimes relate tales of his adventures to the assembled fishermen.  But, although chatty and cheery with his patrons, Sergeant Wilks was a reticent, rather than a talkative, man.  At the “Anchor” he was, except when called upon for a story, a listener rather than a talker.

As to his history, or the county to which he belonged, he never alluded to it, although communicative enough as to his military adventures; and any questions which were asked him, he quietly put on one side.  He had intimated, indeed, that the father and mother of his grandchild were both dead; but it was not known whether she was the child of his son or daughter; for under his cheerful talk there was something of military strictness and sternness, and he was not a man of whom idle questions would be asked.

“Now, boys and girls,” he said, “step up; the show is ready.  Those who have got a penny cannot spend it better.  Those who haven’t must try and get their father or mother to give them one, and see the show later on.  Girls first.  Boys should always give way to their sisters.  The bravest men are always the most courteous and gentle with women.”

Four girls, of various ages, paid their pennies and took their places at the glasses, and the sergeant then began to describe the pictures, his descriptions of the wonders within being so exciting, that several boys and girls stole off from the little crowd, and made their way to their homes to coax their parents out of the necessary coin.

James Walsham listened a while, and then walked away to the sea, for there would be several sets of girls before it came to the turn of the boys.  He strolled along, and as he came within sight of the beach stopped for a moment suddenly, and then, with a shout, ran forward at the top of his speed.

The little girl, after playing some time with the seaweed, had climbed into a small boat which lay at the edge of the advancing tide, and, leaning over the stern, watched the little waves as they ran up one after another.  A few minutes after she had got into it, the rising tide floated the boat, and it drifted out a few yards, as far as its headrope allowed it.  Ignorant of what had happened, the child was kneeling up at the stern, leaning over, and dabbling her hands in the water.

No one had noticed her.  The boys had all deserted the beach.  None of the fishermen were near the spot.

Just before James Walsham came within sight of the sea, the child had overbalanced itself.  His eye fell on the water just as two arms and a frightened little face appeared above it.  There was a little splash, and a struggle, and the sea was bare again.