e saddle and bridle--eh, Ronald?"

"Oh--aunty! Will you come?" said Ronald.

"I will, darling.--I should like it very much indeed, Mr. Harvey; it is
most kind of you to ask me."

"But please--please," said Ronald, who had suddenly lost all his fear,
"may Connie come, too?"

"Who's Connie?"

"My special friend and sister."

"Ho, ho!" said the old man. "I must hear more about her. Can make no
rash promises. But all right, little chap; I'll do what I can for you.
Now, if you had taken after---- Well, never mind--I won't say anything to
hurt you."

"And, please," said Ronald suddenly, "of course you wouldn't pay my
aunty, for the things she did can't be paid for. But poor Mrs.
Cricket--aunty, I know her address. The place in the country is called
Eastborough; and it's Ivy Cottage, aunty; and--she was good to me----"

"Yes," said Mrs. Anderson, "you'll let me explain, please, Mr. Harvey.
This dear little boy spent a month at Mrs. Cricket's, and she was never
paid a penny."

"She ought to be paid," said Ronald. "Course, when father returns he'll
pay you back again. But she ought to get it, for there was real new-laid
eggs, and the chickens were so tender."

"'Pon my word," said the old gentleman, "you're a queer boy! I guess
you've got the true Harvey blood in you. Never neglect a friend--eh? And
never owe a penny. Well now, madam, will you see to this? And what
amount of money ought I to give you for the woman?"

Mrs. Anderson named what she thought would be a correct sum, and
immediately afterwards the old gentleman produced the money from his
waistcoat pocket.

It was a hard moment for Ronald when he said good-bye, but after he got
into the cab he could not help feeling both surprised and elated. He
could not help staring and staring at the old gentleman.

"Was it your photograph," he said at last, "that my father kept in his
dressing-room?"

"I expect so," said the old gentleman.

"It's surprising," said Ronald, "how I forget. But now I remember. He
loved you--he used to talk to me about you. He said it was you taught
him first to be brave."

"Bless him--bless him!" said the old gentleman.

His voice got a little raspy; it is certain that his eyes were a little
dim.

"Perhaps," said Ronald--he had a marvelous way of comprehending the
situation--"but for you he would not have been a V. C. man."

"God bless you! It was in himself--he had the noblest heart, the
grandest nature! There, boy! don't ups