by Amy Le Feuvre (Author)

'And that's the story of my button, ' pursued the boy, ignoring with scorn this last remark. 'And did your father have only one button to his coat?' The voice was a strange one, and the boys turned round to meet the curious gaze of a sturdy little damsel, who had, unnoticed, joined the group. She was not dressed as an ordinary village child, but in a little rough serge sailor suit, with a large hat to match, set well back on a quantity of loose dark hair. A rosy-cheeked square-set little figure she was, and her brown eyes, fringed with long black lashes, looked straight at Teddy with something of defiance and scorn in their glance. Though at first a little taken aback, Teddy rose to the occasion.

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