“Papa, this is the one I told you of; the one who saved me and didn’t mind the blows he got in doing it. I should have been knocked down, and my knee trampled on, but for him.”
Out went Captain Sanker’s hand to shake the boy’s. He did it heartily. As to the Frog, he blushed redder than before with modesty.
“You are a brave lad, and I thank you heartily,” said the captain, wringing his hand as though he’d wring it off. “You do honour to yourself, whoever you may be. There was not one of his own companions to think of him, and save him, and you did it in the midst of danger. Thank you, my lad.”
The captain slid half-a-crown into his hand, telling him to get some Malvern cakes. The boy stood back for us to go by. I was the last, and he spoke as if he knew me.
“Good-day, Master Johnny.”
Why, who was he? And, now I came to look at his freckled face, it seemed quite familiar. His great wide mouth brought me remembrance.
“Why, it’s Mark Ferrar! I didn’t know you at first, Mark.”
“We’ve come over here for the day in two vans,” said Mark, putting his grey cap on. “Eighty of the biggest of us; the rest are to come to-morrow. Some gent that’s visiting at St. Peter’s parsonage has given us the treat, sir.”
“All right, Mark. I’m glad you thought of King Sanker on Saturday.”
Ferrar touched his cap, and went vaulting down after his comrades. He was related to Daniel Ferrar, the Squire’s bailiff, of whom you have heard before, poor fellow, and also to the Batleys of South Crabb. He used to come over to Crabb, that’s where I had seen him.