r an elaborate salute to Mrs. Lascelles, and rather a
cavalier nod to me. But then neither of us had made any effort to detain
him and a notable omission I thought it in Mrs. Lascelles, though to the
lad himself it may well have seemed as strange in the old friend as in
the new.

"What was it," asked Mrs. Lascelles, when we were on our way home, "that
you were going to say about Mr. Evers when he appeared in the flesh in
that extraordinary way?"

"I forget," said I, immorally.

"Really? So soon? Don't you remember, I thought you meant that he
couldn't take care of himself, and you were just going to tell me what
you did mean?"

"Oh, well, it wasn't that, because he can!"

But, as a matter of fact, I had seen my way to taking care of Master Bob
without saying a word either to him or to Mrs. Lascelles, or at all
events without making enemies of them both.

CHAPTER VII

SECOND FIDDLE

My plan was quite obvious in its simplicity, and not in the least
discreditable from my point of view. It was perhaps inevitable that a
boy like Bob should imagine I was trying to "cut him out," as my blunt
friend Quinby phrased it to my face. I had not, of course, the smallest
desire to do any such vulgar thing. All I wanted was to make myself, if
possible, as agreeable to Mrs. Lascelles as this youth had done before
me, and in any case to share with him all the perils of her society. In
other words I meant to squeeze into "the imminent deadly breach" beside
Bob Evers, not necessarily in front of him. But if there was nothing
dastardly in this, neither was there anything heroic, since I was proof
against that kind of deadliness if Bob was not.

On the other hand, the whole character of my mission was affected by the
decision at which I had now arrived. There was no longer a necessity to
speak plainly to anybody. That odious duty was eliminated from my plan
of campaign, and the "frontal attack" of recent history discarded for
the "turning movement" of the day. So I had learnt something in South
Africa after all. I had learnt how to avoid hard knocks which might very
well do more harm than good to the cause I had at heart. That cause was
still sharply defined before my mind. It was the first and most sacred
consideration. I wrote a reassuring despatch to Catherine Evers, and
took it myself to the little post-office opposite the hotel that very
evening before dressing for dinner. But I cannot say that I was thinking
of Cathe