here was silence again, broken at last by Roy's saying in a very
quiet tone,--

"I want to see Dudley."

Miss Bertram rose from her seat, but first she stooped to kiss him.

"You are quite a little hero," she said; "I will send David to you. My
poor little Jonathan!"

A hot tear splashed on Roy's forehead; he put up his hand and stroked
his aunt's face.

"Never mind, Aunt Judy, David made a better king than Jonathan would
have I expect. Don't call Dudley just yet--I--I want to be alone."

Miss Bertram left him, but sat down outside his door on a broad window
ledge and cried like a child.

And then a short time after, Dudley stole softly into the room and Roy's
arms were clinging round his neck.

"Oh, Dudley, I've wanted you, kiss me!"

"You're going to get well, old chap, aren't you? You'll soon be out in
the garden again."

Dudley was speaking in the gruff quick tones he used when trying to hide
his feelings.

"We'll talk about that presently," said Roy, lying back on his pillows
and making Dudley take a seat on his bed. "Dudley, do you know what a
will is?"

"Yes; you've a strong will nurse always says."

"No, not that kind of one. Uncle James left a will when he died saying
he left Norrington Court to father, and father left it to me. It's a
piece of thick paper they write it down on, and it has some sealing wax
on it. Aunt Judy showed me father's will once."

Dudley did not look enlightened, so Roy went on,--

"I want you to get a piece of paper and write down my will for me. I
will tell you what to say."

Dudley slipped out of the room obediently and returned with a sheet of
note paper, but this did not satisfy Roy. "It must be a large
sheet--very large," was his command.

After some minutes' search Dudley came in with a sheet of foolscap, and
then with pen and ink he began to write at Roy's dictation:

"When I am dead"--

But Dudley's pen stopped. "You are not going to die, Roy?"

"I hope I am," was the unexpected reply; "I've been asking God to make
me. I shouldn't think many people lived after their legs were cut off: I
know I don't want to!"

"But I want you to live," cried poor Dudley; "oh! Roy you couldn't be so
mean as to leave me all alone. Oh, do unsay that prayer of yours. You
mustn't die!"

"I'm going to get quite ready to die," persisted Roy; "and if you really
loved me you wouldn't think of liking to see me alive hopping about on a
wooden leg, I couldn't do it."

"Nelson