From which it may be gathered that he was agitated. "Dear old Miss Hamilton," he said tremulously, "I should be a horrid bounder if I denied Henry Hamilton Bones--poor little chap. If I never mentioned him, dear old sister, it is because----Ah, well, you will never understand." He hunched his shoulders dejectedly. "Don't be an ass, Bones. Why the dickens are you making a mystery of the thing?" asked Hamilton. "I'll certify you're a jolly good father to the brat." "Not 'brat,' dear old sir," begged Bones. "Henry is a human being with a human heart. That boy"--he wagged his finger solemnly--"knows me the moment I go into the hut. To see him sit up an' say 'Da!' dear old sister Hamilton," he went on incoherently, "to see him open his mouth with a smile, one tooth through, an' one you can feel with your little finger--why, it's--it's wonderful, jolly old Miss Hamilton! Damn it, it's wonderful!" "Bones!" cried the shocked girl. "I can't help it, madame," said Bones miserably. "Fitz cut his poor little, fat little arm. Oh, Fitz is a low cad! Cut it, my dear old Patricia, mercilessly--yes, mercilessly, brutally, an' the precious little blighter didn't so much as call for the police. Good gad, it was terrible!" His eyes were moist, and he blew his nose with great vigour. "I'm sure it was awful," she soothed him. "May I come and see him?" Bones raised a warning hand, and, though the habitat of the wonderful child could not have been less than half a mile away, lowered his voice. "He's asleep--fitfully, but asleep. I've told them to call me if he has a turn for the worse, an' I'm goin' down with a gramophone after dinner, in case the old fellow wants buckin' up. But now he's asleep, thankin' you for your great kindness an' sympathy, dear old miss, in the moment of singular trial." He took her hand and shook it heartily, tried to say something, and swallowed hard, then, turning, walked from the verandah in the direction of his hut. The girl was smiling, but there were tears in her eyes. "What a boy!" she said, half to herself. Sanders nodded. "Bones is very nice," he said, and she looked at him curiously. "That is almost eloquent," she said quietly. "I thought it was rather bald," he replied. "You see, few people really understand Bones. I thought, the first time I saw him, that he was a fool. I was wrong. Then I thought he was effeminate. I was wrong again, for he has played the man whenever he was called upon to do so. Bones is one of those rare creatures--a man with all the moral equipment of a good woman." Her eyes were fixed on his, and for a moment they held. Then hers dropped quickly, and she flushed ever so slightly. "I think you have defined the perfect man," she said, turning the leaves of her book. The next morning she was admitted to an audience with that paragon of paragons, Henry Hamilton Bones.