Lover or Friend. Rosa Nouchette Carey

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      'And you want to be a classical scholar?' in the same grave tones.

      'I want to learn everything;' and here there was a sudden kindling in the boy's eyes. 'I must do something, and my lameness hinders everything but that—perhaps, if I learn plenty of Latin and Greek, I may be able to help Cyril one day. We often talk about it, and even mother thinks it is a good plan. One day Cyril hopes to have a school of his own—when he is older, you know—and then I could take the younger boys off his hands and save him the cost of an usher; don't you think that would be possible?' looking anxiously at Michael, for somehow those steady clear eyes seemed so thoroughly to comprehend him.

      'I think it an excellent plan,' retained Michael slowly; "knowledge is power"—we all know that. Do you know,' drawling out his words a little, 'that I have been working at Greek, too, for the last two years? I took it up as a sort of amusement when I was seedy; it would not be bad fun to work together sometimes. I daresay you are ahead of me in Greek, but I don't believe you could beat me in mathematics. We could help each other, and it would be good practice. I suppose your brother gives you lessons in mathematics.'

      Kester shook his head.

      'There is not time for everything, and Cyril always says mathematics are not in his line—he is a classical master, you see.'

      'Oh yes, that is easily understood; but you can have more than one master. Come, shall we make a bargain? Will you read Greek with me? and I will give you an hour three times a week for mathematics, or anything else you like. I am an idle man, and any fixed occupation would be a boon to me.'

      'Do you mean it?' was the breathless answer; and then he added, a little shyly: 'I am awfully obliged; I should like it of all things; but you are not strong, are you?—Miss Ross told us so.'

      'Not particularly; I was rather knocked about by the Zulus, you know, and my leg gives me a good deal of trouble. I am pretty heavily handicapped—we are both in the same boat, are we not?—but we may as well make a fight for it.'

      'Someone told me,' returned Kester, in a tone of great awe, 'that you have the Victoria Cross, Captain Burnett.'

      Michael nodded; he never cared to be questioned on the subject.

      'Will you let Mollie and me see it one day?' half whispered the boy. 'I hope you don't mind my asking you, but I have always so wanted to see it. I am afraid you won't tell us all about it, but I should dearly love to hear.'

      No one had ever induced Michael to tell that story; the merest allusion to his gallantry always froze him up in a moment—even Dr. Ross, who was his nearest confidant, had never heard the recital from his own lips. But for once Michael let himself be persuaded; Kester's boyish eagerness prevailed, and, to his own surprise, Michael found himself giving the terrible details in a cool, business-like manner.

      No wonder Kester forgot the time as he listened; the lad's sensitive frame thrilled with passionate envy at the narrative. At last he had met a hero face to face. What were those old Greek fellows—Ajax, or Hector or any of those gaudy warriors—compared with this quiet English soldier?

      'Oh, if I could only be you!' he sighed, as Michael ended his recital; 'if I could look back on a deed like that! How many lives did you save, Captain Burnett?—you told me, but I have forgotten. I think you are the happiest man I know.'

      Kester in his boyish reticence could not speak out his inmost thought, or he would have added: 'And the greatest and the grandest man I have ever seen.'

      A dim, inscrutable smile flitted over Captain Burnett's features.

      'My dear fellow, happiness is a purely relative term. I am not a great believer in happiness. A soldier without his work is hardly to be envied.'

      Kester was young, but his life had already taught him many things. He was acute enough to detect a note of bitterness in his new friend's voice. It said, more than his words, that Captain Burnett was a disappointed man. He looked at him wistfully for a moment.

      'Yes, I know what you mean. You would like to be back with your regiment. It is very hard—very hard, of course; but you are not suffering for nothing, like me. Don't you see the difference?'—dropping his voice. 'I have got this pain to bear, and no good comes of it; it is just bearing, and nothing else. But you have suffered in saving other men's lives. It is a kind of ransom. Oh, I don't know how to express myself, but it must be happiness to have a memory like that!'

      Kester had spoken with a sort of involuntary outburst. For a moment Captain Burnett turned his head aside. He felt rebuked by this crude, boyish enthusiasm, which had gone so straight to the heart of things. Why was he, the grown man, so selfish, so impatient, when this poor lad acquiesced so meekly in his fate? Had Kester deserved his lot?

      'You are right,' observed Michael, in a low tone. 'One ought only to be thankful, and not complain.'

      And just at this moment Audrey came in, and stood on the threshold transfixed with amazement, until Michael rose and offered her a chair.

      'You here!' she gasped. 'I thought I heard voices. Mollie, this is my cousin, Captain Burnett. I suppose we must let him stay to tea.'

      Mollie gave her invitation very shyly. The poor child was thinking of her shabby frock, with the great rent in the skirt, so hastily cobbled up. The pale man with the reddish moustache was very formidable in Mollie's eyes. Mollie was sure her hand would tremble when she lifted the heavy teapot. She had been so looking forward to having a cosy tea with their dear Miss Ross, and now everything was spoilt.

      When Mollie was shy she always looked a little sulky; but Michael, who noticed her embarrassment, set himself to charm it away.

      Biddy had set the little tea-table under the acacia-tree; but as Mollie, blushing and awkward, commenced her arduous duties, she found herself assisted by the formidable Captain Burnett.

      Before half an hour was over Mollie thought him quite the nicest man that she had ever seen. He was so kind, so helpful; he told such interesting stories. Mollie forgot her Cinderella rags as she listened. Her eyes sparkled; a pretty colour came to her face; her rough brown hair had gleams of gold in it. Mollie did not look plain or awkward then.

      'Her eyes are nice, and she has a sweet voice and a ringing laugh,' thought Michael as he glanced at her.

      How merry they all were! What nonsense they talked, as they sat there watching some pigeons circling among the arches! The little garden was still and pleasant. Zack was stretched out beside them, with Booty curled up near him. Audrey was the first to call attention to the lateness of the hour.

      'We must go home now, Michael,' she said, in a tone of regret, which was loudly echoed by Mollie and Kester.

      Mollie closed the green gate after them; then she rushed back to Kester.

      'Do you like him—Captain Burnett, I mean?' she asked eagerly. 'I was so afraid of him at first; his eyes seem to look one through and through, even when he says nothing. But he is kind—very kind.'

      'Is that all you have found out about him?' returned her brother contemptuously. 'That is so like a girl! Who cares about his eyes? Do you know what he is? He is a hero—he has the Victoria Cross. He has saved a lot of lives. Come here, and I will tell you all about it; it will make your hair stand on end more than it does now.'

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