He lifted the little fellow up into Lady Muriel’s arms, and mounted the platform as gaily as if nothing had happened: but he was as pale as death, and leaned heavily on the arm I hastily offered him, fearing he was about to faint. “I’ll just—sit down a moment—” he said dreamily: “—where’s Sylvie?” Sylvie ran to him, and flung her arms round his neck, sobbing as if her heart would break. “Don’t do that, my darling!” Eric murmured, with a strange look in his eyes. “Nothing to cry about now, you know. But you very nearly got yourself killed for nothing!” “For Bruno!” the little maiden sobbed. “And he would have done it for me. Wouldn’t you, Bruno?” “Course I would!” Bruno said, looking round with a bewildered air. Lady Muriel kissed him in silence as she put him down out of her arms. Then she beckoned Sylvie to come and take his hand, and signed to the children to go back to where the Earl was seated. “Tell him,” she whispered with quivering lips, “tell him—all is well!” Then she turned to the hero of the day. “I thought it was _death_,” she said. “Thank God, you are safe! Did you see how near it was?” “I saw there was just time,” Eric said lightly. “A soldier must learn to carry his life in his hand, you know. I’m all right now. Shall we go to the telegraph-office again? I daresay it’s come by this time.” I went to join the Earl and the children, and we waited—almost in silence, for no one seemed inclined to talk, and Bruno was half-asleep on Sylvie’s lap—till the others joined us. No telegram had come. “I’ll take a stroll with the children,” I said, feeling that we were a little _de trop_, “and I’ll look in, in the course of the evening.” “We must go back into the wood, now,” Sylvie said, as soon as we were out of hearing. “We ca’n’t stay this size any longer.” “Then you will be quite tiny Fairies again, next time we meet?” “Yes,” said Sylvie: “but we’ll be children again some day—if you’ll let us. Bruno’s very anxious to see Lady Muriel again.” “She are _welly_ nice,” said Bruno. “I shall be very glad to take you to see her again,” I said. “Hadn’t I better give you back the Professor’s Watch? It’ll be too large for you to carry when you’re Fairies, you know.” Bruno laughed merrily. I was glad to see he had quite recovered from the terrible scene he had gone through. “Oh no, it won’t!” he said. “When _we_ go small, _it’ll_ go small!” “And then it’ll go straight to the Professor,” Sylvie added, “and you won’t be able to use it any more: so you’d better use it all you can, _now_. We _must_ go small when the sun sets. Good-bye!” “Good-bye!” cried Bruno. But their voices sounded very far away, and, when I looked round, both children had disappeared. “And it wants only two hours to sunset!” I said as I strolled on. “I must make the best of my time!” CHAPTER XXIII. AN OUTLANDISH WATCH.