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Updated: May 25, 2025
Bob, now no longer Bob Legerton but Mr Richard Lascelles, was speedily transferred to his father's house in London; and, according to the latest accounts, he is now busy qualifying himself to enter the navy.
This new-comer was Bob Legerton, the hero of my story. "Well, Bob, what's the news?" was the general exclamation, as the assembled party rose with one accord to their feet. "Rockets going up from the `Middle' and the `Gunfleet," panted the lad, as he wiped the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand. "All right," responded old Bill.
"How singularly exact a repetition of the same features you will observe in some families; doubtless you have often noticed it, Miss Lascelles? Now, there is that fine young fellow Legerton, anyone would recognise him as a connection of yours, and I have often been on the point of asking you in what manner you are related to each, other. Am I unpardonably inquisitive?" "By no means, Mr Evelin.
But, bless yer heart! we ain't heard nothing from nobody about him, never a word; so I just adopted him, as the sayin' is, and called him Robert Legerton, arter a old shipmate of mine that's been drowned this many a year, poor chap." "And how long is it since the wreck happened?" inquired the shopman. "Well, let me see," said old Bill.
No; that's all right; but if it is in the least painful to you, I will not put them. You see, Legerton, I have very little doubt that face was the face of your mother; and I confess I feel a trifle curious to know how far back a man can carry his remembrance of his mother. I cannot remember anything about mine previous to my fourth birthday."
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