She looked round anxiously.

"Oh, what _are_ we going to do? It's a quarter of a mile home!"

At that moment there appeared the figure of a tall young man. He drew nearer and raised his hat.

"Anything wrong, Miss Brown?" he said, blushing deeply.

"Just _look_ at William!" said Ethel, pointing dramatically at the small figure seated comfortably in the dust of the road. "He says he can't walk, and goodness knows what we're going to do."

The young man bent over William, but avoided meeting his eyes.

"You feeling ill, my little man?" he said cheerfully.

"Huh!" snorted William. "That's a nice thing for _you_ to ask when you know you told me----"

The young man coughed long and loud.

"All right," he said hastily. "Well, let's see what we can do. Could you get on my back, and then I can carry you home? Give me your parcels.

That's right. No, Miss Brown. I _insist_ on carrying the parcels. I couldn't _dream_ of allowing you--well, if you're _sure_ you'd rather.

Leave me the big ones, anyway. Now, William, are we ready?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I CAN'T WALK ANY MORE, ETHEL," HE SAID, TURNING HIS HEALTHY COUNTENANCE UP TO HER. "I'M TOOK ILL SUDDEN!"]

William clung on behind, nothing loth, and they set off rather slowly down the road. Ethel was overcome with grat.i.tude.

"It _is_ kind of you, Mr. French. I don't know what we should have done without you. I do hope he's not fearfully heavy, and I do hope he's not beginning anything infectious. Do let me take the other parcels. Won't you, really? Mother _will_ be grateful to you. It's such a strange thing, isn't it? I've never heard of such a thing before. I've always thought William was so strong. I hope it's not consumption or anything like that. How does consumption begin?"

Mr. French had had no conception of the average weight of a st.u.r.dy small boy of eleven. He stumbled along unsteadily.

"Oh, no," he panted. "Don't mention it--don't mention it. It's a pleasure--really it is. No, indeed you mustn't take the parcels. You have quite enough already. Quite enough. No, he isn't a bit heavy. Not a bit. I'm so glad I happened to come by at a moment that I could do you a service. _So_ glad!" He paused to mop his brow. He was breathing very heavily. There was a violent and quite unreasonable hatred of William at his heart.

"Don't you think you could walk now--just a bit, William?" he said, with a touch of exasperation in his panting voice. "I'll help you walk."

"All right," William acceded readily. "I don't mind. I'll lean on you hard, shall I?"

"Do you feel well enough?" said Ethel anxiously.

"Oh, yes. I can walk now, if he wants--I mean if he doesn't mind me holding on to his arm. I feel as if I was goin' to be _quite_ all right soon. I'm nearly all right now."

The three of them walked slowly up the drive to the Brown's house, William leaning heavily on the young man's arm. Mrs. Brown saw them from the window and ran to the door.

"Oh, dear!" she said. "You've run over him on your motor-cycle. I knew you'd run over somebody soon. I said when I saw you pa.s.sing on it yesterday----"

Ethel interrupted indignantly.

"Why, Mother, Mr. French has been so kind. I can't think what I'd have done without him. William was taken ill and couldn't walk, and Mr.

French has carried him all the way from the other end of the road, on his back."

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry! How very kind of you, Mr. French. Do come in and stay to lunch. William, go upstairs to bed at once and I'll ring up Dr.

Ware."

"No," said William firmly. "Don't bother poor Dr. Ware. I'm all right now. Honest I am. He'd be mad to come and find me all right."

"Of course you must see a doctor."

"No, I _mustn't_. You don't understand. It wasn't that kind of not wellness. A doctor couldn't of done me no good. I jus'--jus' came over queer," he ended, remembering a phrase he had heard used recently by the charwoman.

"What do you think, Mr. French?" said Mrs. Brown anxiously.

Both Mrs. Brown and Ethel turned to him as to an oracle. He looked from one to the other and a deep flush of guilt overspread his countenance.

"Oh--er--well," he said nervously. "He _looks_ all right, doesn't he?

I--er--wouldn't bother. Just--er--don't worry him with questions.

Just--let him go about as usual. I--er--think it's best to--let him forget it," he ended weakly.

"Of course he's growing very fast."

"Yes. I expect it was just a sort of growing weakness," said Mr. French brightly.

"But Mr. French was _splendid_!" said Ethel enthusiastically, "simply splendid. William, I don't think you realise how kind it was of Mr.

French. I think you ought to thank him."

William fixed his benefactor with a cold eye.

"Thank you very much indeed for carrying me," he said. Then, as his mother turned to Ethel with a remark about the lunch, he added. "_Two_, remember, and, with long tails!"

Mr. French stayed for lunch and spent the afternoon golfing with Ethel up at the links. William was wrapt up in rugs and laid upon the library sofa after lunch and left to sleep off his mysterious complaint in quietness with the blinds down.

Mrs. Brown, entering on tiptoe to see how her son was faring, found him gone.

"Oh, he's gone," she said anxiously to her husband. "I left him so comfortable on the sofa, and told him to try to sleep. Sleep is so important when you're ill. And now he's gone--he'll probably stay away till bedtime!"

"All right," said her husband sardonically. "Be thankful for small mercies."

Ethel and her esquire returned to tea, and, yielding to the entreaties of the family, who looked upon him as William's saviour, he stayed to dinner. He spent the evening playing inadequate accompaniments to Ethel's songs and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. at intervals rapturous expressions of delight. It was evident that Ethel was flattered by his obvious admiration. He stayed till nearly eleven, and then, almost drunk with happiness, he took his leave while the family again thanked him profusely.

As he walked down the drive with a smile on his lips and his mind flitting among the blissful memories of the evening, an upper window was opened cautiously and a small head peeped out. Through the still air the words shot out----

"_Two_, mind, an' with long tails."

II

"Where did you get it from?" demanded Mr. Brown fiercely.

William pocketed his straying pet.

"A friend gave it me."