“And do you guess whose it is?”
“Is it yours?”
“Yes, ma’am. I recollect it distinctly now. I picked it up on the battle-field of Bull Run, when visiting the ground one day, before I had ever been in a fight, and carried it with me through all my campaigns, till wounded; and I lost it from my blouse pocket while lying in the barn. Was there not a piece of paper in the port-monnaie?”
“Yes, so the boys said.”
“With some marches and their dates noted down——”
“Exactly.”
“Well, is it not rather romantic!”
“It is, indeed. The pebble is yours now. Take it.”
“Thank you. I am indeed glad to see it again; but if you prefer to keep it, as you have established an undoubted right to it as property, by rescuing it from the depths of the waters, I will cheerfully leave it with you.”
“No, no,” said the good lady. “It is a pleasure to me to be able to restore it to you, after the lapse of more than two years. I am so glad I happened to mention it. If I had read of such an incident I could scarcely have believed it.”