And oddly enough Christine felt that he understood all, and knew that he would soon find out how, having sacrificed everything to ambition, it now profited her nothing. “Auntie,” cried a small voice from the back seat. She glanced round with love and tenderness in the face that a moment before had been so sad. “What is it, darling?” “Why those two girls were so awfully delighted to see you. I saw one catch hold of the other’s arm and say, ‘There she is!’ just as if you’d been the Queen herself.” She laughed, but the child’s pride in her, and perhaps the remembrance that the public really loved her, touched her heart for a moment, and brought back a look of youth and gladness to her wistful eyes. She turned again to Ralph. “Now take up our talk where it was interrupted yesterday. You were telling me what a plight you were in when Hugh Macneillie found you. How had you got into such difficulties? Couldn’t you get an engagement? Tell me your story, for we two must be friends.” She was so _simpatica_ that it was impossible to resist her, and Ralph told her his story; all about the old days at Whinhaven, and his father’s death; all about his adoption by Sir Matthew Mactavish and his final dismissal; all about his search for work, his first engagement, and his experiences at Washington’s Theatre. Christine would have blamed him more for his folly. In relinquishing his position there had she not, with her womanly insight, guessed all that he left untold of his feeling for Evereld, and understood why just at Christmas time he was in such desperate haste to get on in his profession. With the keen interest of one who had lived the same wandering life, she heard of the adventures of Skoots’ Company, and listened pityingly to the account of what Ralph called his “sixpenny tramp” through the Highlands. But when he told of the friendly shepherd who had met him in the wilds of Gaiek, she made a sudden exclamation. “Did you say the name was Linklater? Why then I think I can help you to find the lost son--my husband’s man is named Dugald Linklater. He has been with us for a year, and would scarcely have endured it so long, I think, had he not been very fond of Charlie, and anxious too to get a good character. He had been valet to Lord Ederline, but had left him under a cloud, and had been out of a situation for a long while. My husband had had a succession of men, and really took this one in despair.” “Then there can be no doubt about it,” said Ralph, his face lighting up. “For I know the son was Lord Ederline’s servant. This will be good news for the shepherd and his wife. How odd that one should come across him in this way. The world is but a small place after all. What is he like?”