“Oh!” cried Ralph, like one in pain, and instinctively he caught her hand in his and held it fast. There was a silence. It seemed as if they did not need words just then. Ralph had not found the strong man of his dreams; he had found instead a little girl with griefs greater than his own, and he felt a longing to comfort her and care for her, and as far as possible to be to her what Dick would have been. “Was he older than I am?” was his first question. “He was thirteen,” said Evereld. “His birthday was in last September--on the 15th.” “And I was thirteen in September, too,--on the 9th,” said Ralph. “Only a week between you--how strange!” said Evereld. “And about soldiers he was just like you. When you rushed to the window this afternoon and saw all the little details about the Horse Guards’ uniforms, that I never much noticed before, you made me think of Dick directly. He was crazy about uniforms, and Bridget used to make them for him. We’ll get her to make you one.” “Do you think she would?” said Ralph, forgetting his troubles. “We could act all sorts of things then, you know. Do you like acting?” “I love the dressing-up part,” said Evereld, “I don’t much care about the talking, Dick used to do most of that.” “I’ll do that part,” said Ralph blithely, for although shy and reserved with his elders, he was never at a loss for words in a charade, and the two instantly fell to discussing future plans, forgetting every grief and care in the bliss of perfect companionship. “Let us come down now,” said Evereld, presently. “Geraghty promised to bring us whatever we liked. We’ll sit on the lowest flight of stairs, you know, and he’ll help us as the dishes come out of the dining-room. It’s such fun. I always do it when there’s a dinner-party.” Ralph consented willingly enough, and found something cheering in the general air of excitement that pervaded the house. They sat cosily on the rich stair carpet with its soft Eastern colouring, a funny little pair, he in his deep black, she in her white Indian muslin, watching the servants as they hurried to and fro, and enjoying what Evereld termed “that nice sort of late-dinner smell.” “But it makes one awfully hungry,” said Ralph, and the good-natured Geraghty, catching the words, murmured a comforting assurance as he passed by, “I’m coming to you directly, sir,” and in a minute or two with a beaming face he reappeared with two delicious oyster patties.