e you were awake, when the young birds
were yet nestling in the warmth of their mother's wing, ere the lambs
were astir in the fields, when the world was hushed in that sweet
stillness which awaits the dawn, he went away--away where he will not be
weak or sickly any more, where he will no longer be Jimmy Green, the
gardener's poor grandson, or Bambo, Joe Harris's musical dwarf, but a
new creature, with a new name--a name that is written in the Lamb's book
of life!"

Then Auntie Alice soothed and petted the little creatures, talking to
them in her soft, caressing voice, telling them once again of that fair
country to which their friend had gone. And when their sorrow had sobbed
itself dry they stole away to find their father, going on tiptoe, as if
they feared to disturb the slumber of their little comrade.

Three days later the dwarf was laid to rest in a corner of the Firdale
churchyard beside his mother. Major Dene erected over the spot a rugged
granite cross with his name upon it, his age, and the date of his death.
And below this he caused to be cut another name--the name by which the
dwarf always seemed to know himself best, because by it he was known to
those whom he had loved and served so faithfully and so well:--

BAMBO.

"_Sown in dishonour, raised in glory._"

"Now, what you all require is a thorough change," said Dr. King when he
called at Firgrove a few days after Bambo's death. "The young people
here have both been through a great deal.--You, my dear sir," to Major
Dene, "must make the most of your time, and build up your strength as
firmly as possible before you go back to Africa. The ladies, too," he
continued, addressing Miss Turner and Miss Alice, "will be all the
better of a little holiday, a complete change before--ah--in short,
before any further changes take place." And the staid elderly doctor
beamed upon Miss Alice, who held down her head, toyed with Joan's curls,
and blushed in a most becoming way--the sort of blush which made her
gentle face look almost like a girl's again.

"What's you's cheeks gettin' so red for--just like as if you'd got the
toofache, eh?" demanded Joan, with awkward directness.

"Are you too hot, Auntie Alice? Shall I draw down the blind?" asked
Darby politely. "Or would you prefer to come out into the garden?"

"Yes--no--thank you, dear--that is--" stammered Auntie Alice, in such
painful confusion that, although intensely amused, Major Dene felt
obliged to