Montagu was puzzled. He sympathised with his small brother—it had been a long, dull day for him, too—but yet he felt that the tiger-man ought not to be bothered. Montagu was sensitive and sympathetic, and even as he had caught sight of the tiger-man walking up the path he realised that it was a different tiger-man from the one of a week ago who had rolled over and over in the grass so joyously. He looked at the watch in his hand. "It’s more’n five minutes now," he said. "You can call if you like, I sha’n’t." But Edmund did not call. Montagu moved nearer his little brother and put his arm round him. "We ought to be sorry for the tiger-man, you know," he said softly. "He’s like Guardie and us now." Edmund leaned against Montagu and sighed. It really was a very sad and puzzling day. "Surely, it’s more than five minutes," said a voice behind them, and there was the tiger-man, pale certainly, with red rims round his eyes, but evidently ready to play. "Do you mind? Are you sure you don’t mind?" Edmund asked eagerly. "If you’d rather not—we’d rather not, too." The tiger-man sat down on the rough grass near the wall—it was one of his agreeable qualities that he was ready to sit down anywhere at any moment. He held out his hand to each of the little boys, and they sat down one on each side and cuddled up against him. "You’re jolly, decent little chaps," he said, "and I know just what you mean, but I’d like to keep my promise because—well, most of all, because she’d like me to. So now I’ll try and be amusing." And he was amusing. Edmund forgot his low spirits and rolled over and over on the grass in paroxysms of stifled laughter at the things the tiger-man did and said. All too soon the game ended. The tiger-man put on his watch, and kissed both the little boys in farewell. "Good-bye," he said, "I’m afraid it will be some time before we meet again, but I sha’n’t forget you." "We sha’n’t forget _you_. Good-bye, good-bye," called the little boys, watching the tiger-man as he vaulted lightly over the wall. Montagu ran after him. "I’d like to whisper," he said breathlessly. The tiger-man leant over the wall, and Montagu caught him round the neck: "Although we laughed and enjoyed it so," he whispered, "we _are_ sorry, we really are." The tiger-man kissed Montagu once more, but this time he said nothing at all. *CHAPTER XV* *THE BETHUNE TEMPERAMENT* For courage mounteth with occasion.—KING JOHN. "It is curious, is it not," Miss Esperance said to Mr. Wycherly, "how entirely those two dear boys differ in character. Sometimes I think that Montagu must be like his mother’s family. He is certainly not like ours."