k when he
smiled like that. He held out his hand.

"Will you come and try my stick, Bobby?" he said. "It makes a splendid
horse."

The boy pressed back hard against his mother's knee for an instant, his
eyes still on Amaldi's. They continued to look at each other steadily
for some seconds. Then Bobby twisted around as he leaned against Sophy,
looked up inquiringly into her face, smiled suddenly, showing his little
crimped teeth, and, drawing himself erect, walked straight up to Amaldi.

"Oh!" said Sophy on a hushed breath, as when a bird alights near one.
Never before had Bobby gone to a stranger. A feeling of delight came
over her. The child was ratifying her own instinct about Amaldi. She
looked on with lips parted and eyes softly shining, while Bobby, leaning
now against Amaldi's knee, fingered the dark, smooth stick that made "a
splendid horse." But while his small hands wandered over the curved
handle, he was gazing not at the stick but into Amaldi's face.

Suddenly he pushed the stick aside.

"Take Bobby," he said.

Amaldi lifted him upon his knee, and the child, putting one hand against
the young man's breast, continued gazing up into his eyes. Then he said:

"Stan' up.... Bobby! stan' up."

Amaldi put his hands about the firm little body, and raised it, so that
Bobby stood like a tiny Rhodian Apollo, with a foot on either knee of
his new friend. For some moments he stayed so, looking down into
Amaldi's face with deep consideration. Then, as if having thought
everything out to his entire satisfaction, he bent forward, and set the
soft, damp ring of his small mouth against the young man's cheek.

"Bobby man!" he announced. And at once burst into the wildest chuckles,
hugging Amaldi's head to him with both arms, springing in his grasp
like a bewitched india-rubber ball--repeating over and over, "Bobby
man!--Bobby man!"

Amaldi clasped him close. His dark face glowed with pleasure. All at
once it came back to Sophy afresh that his tragic marriage had been
childless. Her heart felt very pitiful towards him.

Here the door opened, and Chesney entered.

Amaldi rose with Bobby still in his arms.

"My husband--Marchese Amaldi," said Sophy.

"How d'ye do?" said Chesney. He was looking at Bobby. Then he turned to
Sophy.

"Isn't it rather late for the little chap to be downstairs?" he asked.

"I was going to send him away in a few moments. But he's made such
friends with the Marchese. Isn't it odd? Just