“I think it was very brave of Frank,” Alice Heathcote said, quietly—much more quietly, indeed than might have been expected from the previous glow of enthusiasm upon her face. “Who was the man you picked up, and did he tell you his name?” “He seemed a poor nervous sort of creature, and hardly knew whether he stood upon his head or his heels, after he was safe on the pavement. As to who he was, I have got his card; here it is— STEPHEN WALKER, TOBACCONIST, Stationery of all kinds at the lowest prices. _Newspapers and periodicals punctually supplied._ “Stephen Walker!” Captain Bradshaw said, “there was a man of that name, a major in my regiment, when I first joined. He was killed in a skirmish, I remember quite well.” And here the captain’s reminiscence was cut short by the servant announcing dinner. “Alice, take my arm. These two young fellows are neither of them strangers.” “I should think not, sir,” Prescott said, “considering that it is eight or nine years since I first used to come here from Westminster to spend Saturdays and Sundays with Frank.” The dining-room was a large well-proportioned room, with a dark red paper; and with large prints of Conservative statesmen, in heavy oak frames, looking down at the proceedings. In the daylight it was an undeniably gloomy room, imperfectly lighted, and very dark; but with the curtains drawn, and in the warm soft light of the wax candles, it was a very snug room indeed. “It is a mere form my sitting down to dinner,” Captain Bradshaw continued, when they had taken their seats, “for I dare not eat anything.” “You are not worse than usual, I hope, uncle?” “I am as bad as I can be, Frank; my liver is all but gone. I can’t last much longer, my boy, quite impossible; I am going as fast as I can.” “I hope not, uncle,” Frank said, gravely; but he was not much alarmed, for he had heard nearly the same thing almost as long as he could remember. “I tell you, Frank, it is impossible. I have no more liver than a cat. I can’t understand why I have gone on so long. Damn it, sir, it is flying in the face of Nature. I was down at the Club, to-day, and met Colonel Oldham, who was a youngster with me in India. I told him that as he was going away for three or four months upon the continent, I would say good-bye to him for good, for it was quite impossible I could hold out till he came back again.” “What did Colonel Oldham say, uncle?” “Well, Frank, between ourselves, the old fool said that he should say nothing of the sort, for that I had made him the same speech ten years ago.” Captain Bradshaw joined merrily in the laugh against himself. “I should not be surprised, uncle, if you make the same speech to him ten years hence.”