Jim smiled faintly, and stroked the small hand that lay in his palm, rather as he might have stroked a delicate rose petal that had floated to him from the sky. He could not talk; but it was a pleasure to lie and look at this beautiful child; and Rupert became all at once wonderfully communicative. He plainly took a strange and wayward liking to Jim, as children will do sometimes to the most unlikely people. "I feel as though he belonged to me," he remarked later on in the living room, as the mid-day meal was going forward. "You see, he got me out of the water; and I fink my papa will take him for one of his soldiers, because he's so brave. I'm to be a soldier when I grow up. Perhaps I'll have Jim to be my orderly. Papa has an orderly, I know. I suppose he keeps his things tidy for him. I fink I'll have Jim for mine when he gets better. Why doesn't he get better quickly?" "Because we can't get a doctor to him yet, little gentleman." "My papa would send one if you'd ask him," said the child, in the same rather magnificent way. "He can send anybody anywhere, I know. He can do anything he likes. My papa is a very great man." "And where does he live, dear?" asked Eileen breathlessly, realising for the first time that, though the words father and mother conveyed no impression to the child's mind, he had a very decided notion about his papa and mamma, although he had never spoken of them before to-day; but the question was beyond the child's power of answering. He looked perplexed for a moment, and then said-- "They're going home--we're all going home. They'll go home as soon as the big ship gets to land. I suppose they've gone home already," and then he looked about him with wide-open wondering eyes, filled with a vague distress and perplexity; and glancing up into Eileen's face, he asked-- "Is this home? Is this where they are coming to, by-and-by?" "No, darling," answered Eileen quickly, the tears springing to her eyes as she realised the possibility that the child's parents had found a different home from the one they had talked about to their little boy. "Papa and mamma stayed on the big ship; and if the big ship got safe into port, they would go home when they landed; and we will find out where they are, and you shall go to them. Don't cry, little prince. As soon as ever a boat can come from shore we will find out all about it." "I don't want to cry," answered the child, whose wondering eyes were quite dry. "I like being here. I like you, and Pat, and Jim, and the gull, and everybody. I fink I'll stay here always. My papa and mamma can come and live with us if they want to; and if they don't, I'll go and see them sometimes. I don't live with them ever--only now and then. I'd like to be a lighthouse keeper, with Jim to help me. I fink I'll live always with you."