Please God, I will"; and,
bending, kissed the hand resting on his.

The spell lifted. Christobel spoke.

"Yes, Boy dear, I knew her. I have often wondered whether I might tell
you. She and my mother were dear friends. I was thirteen when she
died. You were three, poor Little Boy Blue! Two things I specially
remember about your mother: the peculiar radiance of her face--a light
from within, shining out; and the fact that when she was in a room the
whole atmosphere seemed rarefied, beautified, uplifted. I think she
lived very near heaven, Boy; and, like Enoch, she walked straight in
one day, and came back no more. She 'was not'; for God took her."

Another long holy silence. The mulberry leaves were still. Then the
Boy said, softly: "Some day, will you tell me heaps more--details--lots
of little things about her? No one ever has. But I seem almost to
begin to remember her, when you talk of her. Meanwhile, may I show you
this?"

He drew from the inner pocket of his coat, a small well-worn
pocket-Bible. Opening it at the fly-leaf, he passed it to Miss
Charteris.

"It was hers," he said.

She bent over it and read the inscription:

_M. A. Chelsea_

"_Through faith and patience inherit the promises._"

Below, in a delicate writing, traced by a hand that trembled:

_To my Baby Boy from his Mother_

"_I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not._"

She looked at it in silence. How much had this book meant during all
these years, to the "Baby Boy"? Had the book in his pocket, and the
prayers hovering about him, something to do with the fact that he was
still--just Little Boy Blue?

The Boy had taken a fountain pen from his pocket, and was shaking it
vigorously over the grass.

Now he passed it to her.

"Write your dear name beneath," he said.

Infinitely touched, she made no comment, raised no question. She took
the pen, and wrote just "_Christobel_."

* * * * *

"_And the evening and the morning were the fourth day._"

* * * * *

THE FIFTH DAY

GUY CHELSEA TAKES CONTROL

"Now, Sir Boy," said Miss Charteris with decision, "this is your fifth
day. Our time is nearly over. You have done most of the talking. You
have had things entirely your own way. What? ... Oh, well, _almost_
entirely your own way. I have allowed you to play your Old Testament
game to your heart's content. With commendable adaptability,