ang a loud peal at the front door. It was Mrs. Anderson herself who
opened it to her.

"Oh Connie!" said the widow, "thank God! Have you brought news of
Ronald? What _has_ happened, Connie--what _has_ happened?"

Connie immediately entered the house.

"May I speak to yer, ma'am?" she said.

"Certainly; but where is the boy?"

"He's quite safe, ma'am--he's with Giles."

"Why did he go out? He did very wrong."

"I did wrong too," said Connie. "I tuk him. He's frightened, ma'am.
Ronnie's rare and frightened. He heered wot the old gentleman said."

"How could he hear?" said Mrs. Anderson.

Connie told.

"'Tain't true, ma'am, is it?" said Connie. "Yer wouldn't niver, niver,
let little Ronald go away?"

"Yes, but I must. I am very sad. I wish I needn't send him; but the
gentleman who called to-day is his father's uncle, and his nearest
relation in the world. Connie, you must bring Ronald home. I will go
with you myself to fetch him."

"Oh, ma'am," said Connie, beginning to sob, "it 'ull break his 'eart."

"No, Connie," answered Mrs. Anderson. "Hearts like Ronald's--brave and
true and faithful--don't break; they endure. Besides that, the old
gentleman--Mr. Harvey--will not be unkind to him; I am certain of that."

So Connie and Mrs. Anderson returned side by side to the house where
Giles and Ronald were waiting for them.

When they entered they saw a picture which Mrs. Anderson could never
forget: the dying boy, with his radiant face, lying on the bed
half-supported by pillows, the crimson and gold coverlet making a
wonderful patch of color; and Ronald, the tears still wet on his cheeks,
but his eyes very bright, his lips firm, his whole attitude that of a
soldier's child.

The moment he saw Mrs. Anderson he went up to her.

"I am ashamed," he said. "Giles has told me the son of a V. C. man
should not be a coward. It is all right--I am going back."

Mrs. Anderson pressed the boy's hand.

"I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Ronald," she said. Then she turned
and talked a little longer to Giles. She saw how weak the child was, and
knew, with a woman's perception, what a very little time longer he had
to live in this old world.

"My sister's in the country, ma'am," said Giles in his brightest manner.
"She's looking for a little house for her an' me--two winders in our
room--that's wot Sue an' me thought we 'ud like--and iverythink wery
purty. Sue may be back any day. She's takin' a good bit of a time
a-l