Lord
Jesus take care of you. That's all, you know, Edgar. But I have told you
so often, I think the best thing I can do, is to pray for you."

"Will you, Arthur? Will you really?" said Edgar, turning round a very
anxious, eager face; and he said it again. "Oh, do please, every day,
Arthur! I don't believe any one else does. Father used to pray for me; oh,
I know he did!" and Edgar's words ended in smothered sobs.

Arthur's arms were round his neck now. "Dear Edgar, don't cry. You know I
do love you just as if you were my brother; and I will pray for you every
day. I do sometimes already. And then we can write to each other, you
know, can't we?" Looking through the trees they could see that the other
boys were fast dispersing, and that only one or two of the day boys were
left; so Arthur knew that he must go, and that it must be a very long
good-bye to Edgar.

They walked together to the gate, and then they stopped. Edgar seemed to
be searching in his pocket for something. Presently he found it, and
placed it in Arthur's hand.

"What is this?" said Arthur.

"Well, it is a present for you. I have nothing else to give you, and I did
want to give you something."

"But what is it?" said Arthur; for he seemed puzzled by the appearance of
Edgar's gift, although it was open in his hand.

"Well, I'll tell you," said Edgar. "I have two medals that my grandfather
got at college, and father gave them to me when he went away; and, you
know, if you were my brother you would have one; so I want you to take it.
I have one just like it."

"Very well," said Arthur; "thank you, Edgar, and I don't like saying
good-bye at all, you know; but we must; and, Edgar, won't you do it, what
we talked about?"

"And you remember what you promised about praying. Mind you do, Arthur.
Good-bye."

Then Arthur went away; and as he was walking homewards, there was more
than one tear brushed away by his little hot, ink-stained hand, though it
was not a heart-grief to him, and he did not know what a lonely, desolate
feeling was in Edgar's heart, as he watched him walking slowly away until
the distance hid him from his eyes; for Arthur was the chief object in his
heart just then.

The next day the play-ground at Mr. Carey's school was quiet and empty,
and the broad shadows fell softly on the silent grass. The sheep in the
fields must have wondered at the stillness. And Mr. Carey was enjoying the
half-yearly silence that reigned there.

Arthur