Bruce and Bartlemy rowed down. Frances was very silent, and held Rob's hand fast; Rob did not feel like talking, and Wythie was never a chatterbox, so the party came down the river very quietly, all thoughts centered on the same point--the Greys' difficulties. As they drew up at the little pier which the Rutherfords had built for their landing-place, Basil said, breaking a long silence: "Wythie and Rob, I want you to give us your solemn promise that if ever you think we can be of any use or comfort, you will say so. I don't believe you understand what it has been to us to have you girls take us right into the little grey house and big Grey hearts, and treat us like one of yourselves. It will be downright unkind if you shove us off now, for the first time, and don't let us have the privileges you've accustomed us to. Brothers are not meant only for bright days, you know." "We would ask you to do anything, Basil; of course we would," said Wythie. "There is nothing to be done now." "But you will consider us comrades of the true sort; not the kind you like only for what you can do for them and to frolic with," persisted Basil. "'Ere's our 'earts and 'ere's our 'ands," said Rob, melodramatically laying her left hand on her heart and extending her right. "Seriously, boys," she added, "we understand, and we'll do just what you want us to. We're going to regard you as crutches--a trifle long, perhaps, but by no means to be cut off. If you were all as Grey as we are, we couldn't count you greater props than we do now. We're friends for life, and for scrapes on either side--and we're more grateful than I sound. This is rather a hard time for the Greys, but we've read lots of storybooks, and we know when the lovely heroines are in mortal danger there's certain rescue on the next page. So we're going to finish these paragraphs as quickly as we possibly can, and turn over to the next chapter." She impulsively held out both hands as she ceased speaking, wrinkling up the comers of her eyes in her merry fashion, though there were tears on the lashes. Bruce seized the firm little hands, with the honorable burn on one forefinger, and the thumb-nail blackened by hammering, and shook them warmly. Basil followed suit, and then all three shook hands with Wythie--it was rather like a fresh treaty of allegiance before going into battle. Then Bartlemy locked the oars and rowlocks into the boat-house and the Rutherfords and Frances escorted the Greys to their own gate, where they left them with a reassuring pat on each arm, and Wythie and Rob ran into the house. They heard voices in the parlor and paused in the hall to listen. Their mother's and father's, Aunt Azraella's, and two strange men's voices they had just decided them to be, when Prue's golden head, much dishevelled, appeared over the banisters.