but I do not think she was aware of any of the details that made it up--and she had not even noticed the incident of the swamping when Valentine’s light well-strung figure scrambled up the bank. “Here, you!” cried Val to the boy by her side, with the ready ease of one accustomed to command to one accustomed to obey--“lend us a hand, will you, to empty the boat?” The boy, who had been seated by the woman’s side, rose at the call with ready reply to the demand upon him. He had the corresponding habit to Valentine’s--the habit of hearing when he was called to, of doing what he was told to do. He had done everything to which a vagrant lad is bred--held horses, ran errands, executed a hundred odd jobs; and it did not occur to him to withhold the help by which sixpences were earned and bread gained, from any one who demanded it. “Here you are, sir,” he answered, cheerily. He was about the same age as Valentine, but not so tall nor so finely made--a fair-haired, sunny-faced lad, looking clean and ruddy, despite of dust and weariness, and the rough tramp costume, blue-spotted handkerchief, and nondescript jacket which he wore. He and his mother had been seated there together for some time past, not speaking to each other--for vagrants generally are a silent race. She did not stir even now, when he rose from her side. To have him called casually by whomsoever wanted help, and to see him obey, was habitual to her also. Val and the young tramp worked together in silence at the righting of the boat: they pulled it up on the bank, and turned it over, and set it afloat again. Then, however, Val changed his first intention. “I say,” he began half meditatively, “have you time to take her down to Goodman’s? no, you mustn’t get in, you can tow her down; and if you’ll come to me to-morrow morning I’ll pay you. I’m Boss, at Grinder’s. Do you know Grinder’s? well, anybody will tell you. You can come after ten to-morrow; and tell old Goodman it’s Ross’s boat.” “Yes, sir, I’ll see to it,” said the boy blithely, touching his cap. He looked up with his fair frank face to Val’s and the two lads “took a liking” to each other on the spot. Val had made a step or two down the bank, then came back. “What are you?” he said; “do you live here? I never saw you on the river before.” “Mother and I are going to stop the night,” said the lad; “we’re last from Ascot; I ain’t got a trade, but just does odd jobs. No, I never was on the river before.” Upon which a sudden warmth of patronage and lordly benevolence came to Valentine’s bosom. “If you stay here I’ll give you what odd jobs I can. What’s your name? I like the looks of you,” said lordly Val.