The ladies exchanged glances.

‘"Fact is stranger than fiction,” certainly,’ said the colonel.  ’Now, my boy, come here.’

He was standing on the hearthrug with his back to the fire, and putting his hand into his pocket he drew out a small box and placed it in the child’s hand.

‘Open it, and tell me if you recognise the contents.’

Teddy lifted the lid, and then a gasp, and a cry of ecstasy broke from him.

‘Oh, my button, my own button!  Oh, sir!’

And here the tears welled up in the blue eyes, and, utterly regardless of the place he was in, he flung himself down on the hearthrug and buried his head, face foremost, in his arms.  He lay there so still for a moment that Mrs. Graham bent forward to touch him, fearing that the excitement might be too much for him, but he was only trying to hide his emotion from those looking on.  In another minute he rose to his feet, and with a face perfectly radiant he turned to, the colonel, ’It’s lovely, sir, it’s lovely!’

The colonel had had it set in a little gold framework with blue ribbon attached, making it look as much like a medal as possible, and Mrs. Graham now came forward and pinned it to his coat.

’Now, my boy, I don’t think you will ever guess how it came into our possession.  The other day I brought home a few fish, and in preparing one of these for table our cook discovered your button inside it—­I wonder the fish had not come to an untimely end before from such an indigestible meal!  She told us of it, not recognising what a valuable treasure she had brought to light, and directly we saw it, we knew it was the redoubtable button that has been the means of causing such interest in our neighbourhood.’

Teddy listened eagerly.  ‘No wonder no one couldn’t find it!’ he said, fingering his adornment proudly.  ’It’s like the fish that brought Peter some money once.’

Then the colonel turned to one of his friends.

’Now, major, what do you think of this youngster?  Would you like to take him as a drummer boy into your regiment?’

The major scanned the boy from head to foot, then answered emphatically, ‘I wouldn’t take a boy with a face like that for a good deal!’

‘Why not?’ asked Mrs. Graham.

’Because it’s the ruination of them.  I shall never forget a pretty boy we had once; he was called the “cherub,” and had been a chorister—­sang divinely.  He was only four years in the regiment, and his case was brought to me before he was discharged.  He came to us an angel, and departed a finished young blackguard.  He drank, stole, and lied to any extent, and was as well versed in vicious sins as any old toper in the regiment.  When I see a fresh drummer brought in, I wonder how long he will keep his innocence, and sometimes wish his friends could see the life he is subjected to.  I give them a month generally, and then away flies their bloom and all their home training.’