So indeed they were: waiting (for _us_, apparently) at a stile, which they could not have climbed over more than a few moments, as Lady Muriel and her cousin had passed it without seeing them. On catching sight of us, Bruno ran to meet us, and to exhibit to us, with much pride, the handle of a clasp-knife—the blade having been broken off—which he had picked up in the road. “And what shall you use it for, Bruno?” I said. “Don’t know,” Bruno carelessly replied: “must think.” “A child’s first view of life,” the Earl remarked, with that sweet sad smile of his, “is that it is a period to be spent in accumulating portable property. That view gets modified as the years glide away.” And he held out his hand to Sylvie, who had placed herself by me, looking a little shy of him. But the gentle old man was not one with whom any child, human or fairy, could be shy for long; and she had very soon deserted my hand for his—Bruno alone remaining faithful to his first friend. We overtook the other couple just as they reached the Station, and both Lady Muriel and Eric greeted the children as old friends—the latter with the words “So you got to Babylon by candlelight, after all?” “Yes, and back again!” cried Bruno. Lady Muriel looked from one to the other in blank astonishment. “What, _you_ know them, Eric?” she exclaimed. “This mystery grows deeper every day!” “Then we must be somewhere in the Third Act,” said Eric. “You don’t expect the mystery to be cleared up till the Fifth Act, do you?” “But it’s such a _long_ drama!” was the plaintive reply. “We _must_ have got to the Fifth Act by this time!” “_Third_ Act, I assure you,” said the young soldier mercilessly. “Scene, a railway-platform. Lights down. Enter Prince (in disguise, of course) and faithful Attendant. _This_ is the Prince—” (taking Bruno’s hand) “and here stands his humble Servant! What is your Royal Highness’s next command?” And he made a most courtier-like low bow to his puzzled little friend. “Oo’re _not_ a Servant!” Bruno scornfully exclaimed. “Oo’re a _Gemplun_!” “_Servant_, I assure your Royal Highness!” Eric respectfully insisted. “Allow me to mention to your Royal Highness my various situations—past, present, and future.” “What did oo begin wiz?” Bruno asked, beginning to enter into the jest. “Was oo a shoe-black?” “Lower than that, your Royal Highness! Years ago, I offered myself as a _Slave_—as a ‘_Confidential_ Slave,’ I think it’s called?” he asked, turning to Lady Muriel. But Lady Muriel heard him not: something had gone wrong with her glove, which entirely engrossed her attention. “Did oo get the place?” said Bruno. “Sad to say, Your Royal Highness, I did _not_! So I had to take a situation as—as _Waiter_, which I have now held for some years—haven’t I?” He again glanced at Lady Muriel. “Sylvie dear, _do_ help me to button this glove!” Lady Muriel whispered, hastily stooping down, and failing to hear the question. “And what will oo be _next_?” said Bruno.