"Can you remember when it happened, father?" I asked him. And then: "Can you remember when they drove old people out of their houses--and killed them?" "Yes," said my father. And I burst into tears. And when I was not much older he told me about Donald Cochrane, the boy who saved England. It was not strange to my own mind that I could not talk commonplaces now, when I had just spent an hour tailing to the man who had been that historic boy--the very Donald Cochrane. I could not talk commonplaces. Milly's leisurely voice broke my meditation. "I'm sorry that my cousin, Virginia Fox, should have such bad manners, Lady Andover," she was drawling. "She was brought up to speak when spoken to, but I think it's the General who has hypnotized her. Virginia, did you know that Lady Andover asked you--" And I came to life. "It was Miss Fox who hypnotized the General, I fancy," said Lady Andover most graciously, considering I had overlooked her existence a second before. "He had a word for no one else during dinner." I felt myself go scarlet; it had pleased the Marvelous Person, then, to like me a little, perhaps for the youth and enthusiasm in me. With that the men straggled into the room and the tall grizzled head of my hero, his lined face conspicuous for the jagged, glorious scar, towered over the rest. I saw the vivid eyes flash about, and they met mine; I was staring at him, as I must, and my heart all but jumped out of me when he came straight to where I stood, my back against the bookcase. "I was looking for you," he said simply. Then he glanced over my head and his hand shot up in a manner of salute; I turned to see why. I was in front of the portrait of Lord Kitchener. "Did you know him, General Cochrane?" I asked. "Know him?" he demanded, and the gray glance plunged out at me from under the thick lashes. "Don't do it," I pleaded, putting my hands over my eyes. "When you look at me so it's--bombs and bullets." The look softened, but the lean, wrinkled face did not smile. "You asked if I knew Kitchener," he stated. I spoke haltingly. "I didn't know. Ought I to have known?" General Cochrane gazed down, all at once dreamy, as if he looked through me at something miles and aeons away. "No," he said. "There's no reason why you should. You have an uncommon knowledge of events of that time, an astonishing knowledge for a young thing, so that I forget you can't know--all of it." He stopped, as if considering. "It is because I am old that I have fancies," he went on slowly. "And you have understanding eyes. I have had a fancy this evening that you and I were meant to be friends; that a similarity of interests, a--a likeness--oh, hang it all!" burst out the General like a college boy. "I never could talk except straight and hot. I mean I've a feeling of a bond between us--you'll think me most presuming--" I interrupted, breathless. "It's so," I whispered. "I felt it, only I'd not have dared--" and I choked.