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Mark told his story in his modest way, taking no credit to himself, and then added:

“Now they wanted to make a hero of me, mother, and pay me for my services, offering me a purse, and it was a well-filled one, too.”

“Which you, of course, refused?” quickly said the mother.

“Oh, of course he did, for he’d refuse money if he hadn’t two coppers to jingle together in his pocket,” growled Peggy.

“I refused it, mother, but I am to get a reward.”

“Ah, Mark, what have you done?”

“Well, you see the yacht belonged to General Peyton, a millionaire merchant of Boston, and he had as guests on board some ladies, the Secretary of the Navy, and Commodore Lucien, of whom I have often read, you know.”

“Distinguished company, indeed!” said Mrs. Merrill.

“And rich enough to spare a few thousands and not miss ’em,” Peggy ventured, with an eye to the fact that the laborer was worthy of his hire.

“I got, or will get, what to me, Peggy, is worth far more than thousands, for the Secretary promises me a cadetship in the navy,” and Mark’s eyes flashed with pride, while his mother kissed him, and murmured