He talked a little longer with Mrs Burton, and the result of this conference was that just before break-up on that lovely summer's day, the great African explorer made a proposal to the school. It was this: "I have heard a great deal," said Mr Durrant, standing on a platform and looking at all the eager faces, "about your goodness to my little boy. I have further heard that the girls of the third form have each in turn acted as his school-mother." "Oh yes--oh yes!" said Ralph, coming forward now, and speaking with great eagerness: "I has got eight mothers, and I don't want to lose one of them. My bestest mothers are my naughty one and my goodest one. Robina is my goodest one, and Harriet is my naughtiest one: I love them best, but I love all the others too." "You, I think, are Robina Starling," said Mr Durrant, fixing his eyes on Robina's face. "Yes, sir;" she answered. "And you have taken good care of my little boy." "I love Ralph very much, sir," said Robina simply. "And you, too, love him," said Mr Durrant, turning his eyes by a sort of instinct in the direction where Harriet stood, Harriet still looking pale and lanky and different from the rest of her school-fellows. "Yes," said Harriet, with a sort of choke in her voice; "I care for Ralph." Little Ralph himself looked full at her. He ran up to her now and took her hand. "Don't think about your naughtiness," he whispered to her. "You is forgived, you know." Harriet squeezed the little hand and then let it go. There was a lump in her throat. She could not imagine why Ralph Durrant--a little, little boy--had such power over her. "And the rest of you are mothers too," said Mr Durrant, looking from one to the other. "We all love Ralph," they answered.