Now that she was no longer hungry, she was no longer woebegone, and her laugh, though faint, was so pretty that he found himself making every effort to set her laughing.

They talked about themselves with the simple egoism of children; and he learned that her name was Elsie Brand; that she was ten years old--nearly two years younger than himself--that her mother had died many years ago, and that she had lived with her father in his Devonshire parsonage by the sea till last year, when he, too, had died.

Then her Uncle Richard had taken her away to live with him in London.

Her story of her life in London lodgings set Tinker wondering about that Uncle Richard, and piecing together the details Elsie let fall about his late rising, his late going to bed, his morning headache and distaste for breakfast, he came to the conclusion that he was a bad hat who lived by his somewhat inferior wits.
At the end of her story he tried to persuade her to come to the sea with him and seek amusement there.

But he failed; she would not leave the seat.