‘What is her husband?’ inquired Teddy’s mother, as with work in hand she came out and took a seat in the old-fashioned porch.

’A sailor.  Grace was always a roving nature herself.  She never would settle down quiet and take a husband from these parts.  She was maid to our squire’s lady then, and went to foreign parts with her; but folks say she’s steadied down now wonderful.  They’ve been living at Portsmouth, she and her little girl.’

CHAPTER II

’When Greek Meets Greek
 Then Comes The Tug
 Of War!’

Two little determined figures, with flushed, resolute faces, stood opposite one another on a narrow footbridge over a running stream.

Neither could pass the other, but neither intended going back, and the sturdy maiden, in her sailor dress, with her small hands placed on her hips, appeared quite a match for Teddy, who, with his golden head well up, looked like a war-horse scenting the battle-field.

It was thus they met again; both employing their Saturday afternoon in roaming along the edge of a stream, they had suddenly come face to face with one another.

‘You’re to let me come over first,’ she asserted very emphatically, ‘because I’m a girl.’

[Illustration:  ‘You’re to let me come over first,’ she asserted.]

’Boys never go back.  A soldier’s son never!  I’m not going to turn my back before the enemy—­I would disgrace my button if I did.’

‘That old button!’ The tone was that of utmost scorn.

Teddy’s cheeks grew rosy red at once, but he said nothing.

‘I got to this bridge before you did,’ she continued.

’I began to cross it first.  And you, who are you?  No one knows anything about you.  I have been crossing this bridge for years.’

’More reason you shouldn’t cross it now.  My name is Nancy Wright, that’s who I am.’

A princess could not have revealed her name more royally.  She added, after a pause, ‘And I mean to come over first, so go back.’

‘Never!  I never go back!’

‘Then I shall push you over in the water.’

‘Come on and try, then!’

Then there was silence; both the little people eyed each other defiantly, yet a little doubtfully, as if measuring one another’s strength, and their faces grew eager at the coming contest.

‘Boys always ought to give way to girls, always,’ Nancy said, using her strongest plea; ‘you’re not a proper boy at all.’

’You’re not a proper girl.  You’re wearing a boy’s hat and a boy’s jacket.’

’I’m a sailor’s daughter, and everybody can see I am.  You say you’re a soldier’s son, why don’t you dress like one?’

Teddy felt he was getting the worst of it.  He fingered his button proudly.

’I’m wearing something that has been in the thick of a bloody battle; that’s more than you can do.  Sailors don’t know much of fighting.’