"You leave the matter to me," said Patience. She looked strong and determined. "Your father would wish it," she said; and at these words and at the cool feel of her hand, Ralph yielded to his own inclinations and left the room with her. When they got upstairs, however, he asked her once or twice rather piteously if she thought Harriet would mind. "I will see that she doesn't," said Patience. "You leave it to me, Ralph." "Oh but," said Ralph, as he got into his little pyjamas, "she has been so awfully brave, you know--saved my life, you know." "Yes, I know all that," said Patience, "and I know of course that you are very grateful to her; but I do wonder something, Ralph." "What is that?" asked the child. "If you understand the difference between very grateful to a person and loving a person very dearly?" Ralph looked immensely puzzled. "I mean this," said Patience, wondering at her own audacity. "You say that Harriet saved your life." "Yes," said Ralph, with great determination. "Her did." "But before she saved your life, you didn't care for her so very, very much, did you?" "Not so awfully as all that," said Ralph, considering his words. "But afterwards?" continued Patience. "Couldn't help it arterards," said Ralph. "Her did it twice, you know." Patience did not know, but she was determined to treasure up the information given unwittingly by Ralph. "Well," she said after a minute's pause, "I understand of course quite well that you are awfully obliged to her and all that, and that perhaps you do love her. But you don't love her better than your father, do you?" "Better nor father?" said Ralph. "In _course_ not?" "But did he ever save your life?" "No," said Ralph; "but then he _is father_." "I see quite well, my wise little man," said Patience, tucking him up and kissing him. "Now Robina never saved your life: but you--you love her notwithstanding that?" "Awful much!" said Ralph. "I saw you kiss her to-night," said Patience. "Cause I love her so much," said Ralph. "Good-night now, Ralph. Sleep very sound." "Wait till I say my `Matthew, Mark,'" said Ralph. He closed his eyes, repeated the old song rapidly and, before the last words had come to an end, was asleep. Patience went downstairs. By this time Harriet had returned. She had been forced to remove the poor chocolate-stained white frock and to put on another, which did not make her look half so well dressed. She was still feeling cross and sore. As soon as she entered the room, her first exclamation was, "Where is Ralph?" "Gone to bed," said Frederica Chetwold. "Gone to bed?" said Harriet. "Who has given Ralph leave to go to bed?" "Patience took him to bed. You had better not interfere about it," said Frederica: "for if you do," she continued, "we'll all tell Mr Durrant in the morning. You are not school-mother yet, so don't be over sure of things."