e back, won't you, Connie?"

"W'y, yus," said Connie. "I s'pose it ain't wrong; but you can't do more
nor set down in the room for about five minutes, Ronald, for yer'll 'ave
to get back 'ere quite early, you know."

Ronald, delighted at any sort of consent on the part of his little
friend, rushed upstairs to fetch his velvet cap and his little overcoat.
But he forgot, and so did Connie, all about the thin house-shoes he was
wearing. Soon he had slipped into the coat, and cramming the cap on his
head and looking up at Connie with a gay laugh, said:

"Now we'll come."

They were in the hall, and had just opened the hall door, when suddenly
that of the drawing-room was opened, and the old man, who helped himself
along with a stick, came out. Ronald looked back and caught sight of
him; but Ronald himself being in shadow, the old man did not notice him.
The old man then spoke in a loud voice:

"It is all settled, then, and I will call to-morrow morning at ten
o'clock to fetch back the boy. Have him ready. And now, good-day to you,
madam."

But the old gentleman suddenly stopped as he uttered these words, for
the hall door was slammed by some one else with violence, and Ronald
turned a white face up to Connie.

"It's himself--it's Uncle Stephen. He made mother cry and cry. I won't
go back to him. I won't be his boy. Hide me--hide me, Connie!"

Connie herself felt very much frightened.

"Come along 'ome with me," she said. "He can't get yer at my 'ome. Don't
shrink like that, Ronald. Be a man, dear Ronald."

The children got back to Connie's rooms without any special adventure.
There Giles was waiting with that peaceful look on his face which seemed
more or less to quiet every one who came in his way. He smiled all over
his little face when he saw Connie, and then his eyes grew big and
surprised as he noticed the small boy who kept her company.

"Why are yer back so soon, Connie?" he said. "I warn't not one little
bit lonesome. And 'oo's he?" said Giles.

"This is my dear little friend Ronald," said Connie.

"And I wanted to see you awful bad," said Ronald, running up to Giles,
flinging his cap on the floor, and kneeling down by him. "I have thought
of you--oh, so much! It was you, you know, who taught me to endure to
the end. Did Connie tell you about that?"

"Yes," said Giles, "she told me."

Ronald looked up at Connie. Giles watched the two, and then he held out
his little hand and touched Ronald's.

"Y