The question had at once arisen whether Mrs. Baron should not be sent to England with Roy, as soon as the boy might be fit to travel, since women were theoretically free to go where they would, provided only that they could obtain passports. But Mrs. Baron refused to consider any such proposal. She could not and would not be separated from her husband. "Of course I shall go to Fontainebleau," she said decisively. "It cannot be for long. Roy must come to us there. It only means leaving his schooling for a quarter of a year; and he will not be strong enough for lessons at present. Something is sure to be arranged soon, and then we shall all go home together." Others were less sanguine of a quick release; but Colonel Baron could seldom stand out against his wife, when she set her dainty foot down. He made a half struggle, and won from her a promise that, if he should be ordered farther away, she would then consent to Roy's being sent home. Beyond that he failed to get his own way. Long before Roy could be counted safe for even the short journey to Fontainebleau, Denham had an intimation that his going thither might be no longer deferred. Thus far he had not thought it needful to tell the boy what had happened; but now the telling had become a necessity. "Den, I want to look out of the window. Oh, let me look out," entreated Roy, as the heavy beat of a drum sounded. He wriggled on the hard sofa, where he had begun to spend a part of each day. Roy had grown thin, and his eyes blinked weakly when turned to the light. "You want to see the soldiers?" "Yes. Do let me. May I try to walk to the window all alone? I know I can." Ivor laughed, though not mirthfully. "Try!" he answered, and Roy made a brave attempt, actually reaching the window without being helped. "Come, that was good. You are getting on nicely. Now sit down, and look out for the soldiers. I think they are coming this way." The boy gazed eagerly, flushing. "I wish they were English," he said. "I wish I was in England. When are we going home, Den? And when may I see my mamma? I do want to have Molly again. It's ages since I saw Molly--and I want her!" Denham was silent. "It was stupid of me to be so glad to come away from Molly. Nothing is half nice without her." "I am glad you have found that out. She is a dear little sister, and she would do anything in the world for you." "Oh, well, of course, I know she would," assented Roy. "And I always was fond of Molly too. She gets cross sometimes, though." "Roy never gets cross, I suppose?" Roy laughed rather consciously, and then gave vent to a sigh. "Oh, dear, I don't like this chair. Not half so much as the sofa. It makes me tired. I wish nobody ever had the small-pox. When shall I be all right again, I wonder? I do hate being ill such a tremendously long time." Denham picked him up bodily, as if he had been an infant, carried him across, and deposited him where he had been before.