Low down, close to the ground, swung a large flat basket.

In this, on a shawl spread over a thick bed of hay, sat a little girl some five years old.
"It is the sergeant," one of the boys exclaimed.

"I wonder whether he has got a fresh set of views?
The last were first-rate ones." The sergeant gave a friendly nod to the boys as he passed, and then, turning up the main street from the beach, went along until he came to a shaded corner, and there stopped.

The boys had all got up and followed him, and now stood looking on with interest at his proceedings.

The little girl had climbed out of her basket as soon as he stopped, and after asking leave, trotted back along the street to the beach, and was soon at play among the seaweed and stones.
She was a singularly pretty child, with dark blue eyes, and brown hair with a touch of gold.