Down at the seaside that summer, a group of wealthy ladies had taken to throwing pennies from the bridge for the local boys to dive for. The boys were extraordinary swimmers — they had grown up on this coast and moved through deep water as easily as fish. The ladies loved to watch them surface, each one holding up a gleaming coin.
On this particular afternoon, one of the ladies felt her ring shift on her finger just as she reached into her bag. Before she could catch it, the diamond slid off and fell in a bright arc into the deep water below.
She cried out. The ring was her most prized possession — she should never have worn it somewhere so risky, it had always been too loose. But it was gone now, down in the dark water below.
At once the boys offered to dive for it. They went down again and again, covering the area as best they could. But none of them had seen exactly where it fell, and the bottom was deep and weedy, and the ring was small.
Toody Ruggles was probably the strongest diver among them, but even he came up empty-handed, time after time. The lady had nearly given up hope entirely when Toody dived once more and stayed down so long that everyone on the bridge held their breath.
Then up he came, grinning from ear to ear, holding the ring above the water.
The reward was wonderful. Toody held it carefully all the way home, thinking of his sister.
She was younger than him, and had been unwell. They had lost their parents some years before, and Toody had been looking after them both — selling newspapers, carrying bags at the station. Lately, the doctor had said she needed plenty of fruit to build her strength back up. That was the one thing Toody hadn’t been able to afford.
Now he could.
He bought strawberries and oranges and pears and apples. He watched the colour return to his sister’s cheeks, week by week, until she was well and laughing again.
And the other boys, when they heard the whole story, were glad — every one of them — that it had been Toody who found the ring.
