pe he isn't hurt much. How do you
do, Miss Linton?" he said stiffly, as he encountered Rachel Linton in
the verandah.

"Quite well, I thank you, Mr Roberts," said Rachel, imitating his
pompous stiffness, and curtseying profoundly; "how do you do?"

"Oh! I say; don't, Miss Linton. What a jolly shame it is," he cried,
throwing off all form. "You always laugh and poke fun at me."

"Not I, Mr Roberts," she replied. "When you are stiff and formal, I
shape my conduct to suit yours; when you come as the nice, frank, manly
boy that we are always so glad to see, I am sure I never laugh at you
then."

"Boy? Yes, of course, you always treat me like a boy," said Bob,
dolefully. "Is a fellow never going to be a man?"

"Far too soon, I should think," said Miss Linton, holding out her hand.

"Oh! I'm only a boy," said Bob, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and
looking so sadly injured, and in so comical a way, that Miss Linton
could hardly refrain from laughing.

"Such a boy as I'm sure we are all very proud of," said Miss Linton.
"We have heard from my father and Lieutenant Johnson how bravely you
behaved last night."

"Gammon!" said Bob, blushing scarlet. "I only behaved like a boy. How
is the wounded man you have had brought up here--Mr Ensign Long?"

"Poor boy!" said Rachel Linton quietly; "he has a nasty wound."

"Say that again, Miss Linton," cried Bob excitedly; "it does me good."

"He has a nasty wound. Are you so pleased, then, that your friend is
badly hurt?" said Miss Linton gravely.

"No, no; of course not. I mean the other," cried Bob.

"Why, what did I say?"

"You said `Poor boy!'" exclaimed the middy.

"Of course I did," said Miss Linton, raising her eyebrows.

"Say it again, please," said Bob.

"Poor boy! I am very sorry for him."

"That does me a deal of good," cried Bob excitedly. "You know I can't
stand it, Miss Linton, for you to think of him as a man and of me as
only a boy."

"Why, you silly, foolish boy!" she said, laying her hand upon his
shoulder, and gazing full in his face, "of course I think of you both as
what you are--a pair of very brave lads, who will some day grow to be
officers of whom England will be very proud."

"If--if I'm not a man now," said Bob, in a low, husky voice, "I shall
never grow to be one."

"Not grow to be a man? Why, what do you mean?" said Miss Linton.

"I don't know," faltered Bob, "only that it's precious miserable, and--
and I wish one