uivering mouth. Suddenly he grasped that
this was an appeal from weakness to strength, and that he, no older and
but a little bigger than Fluff, had strength to spare, strength to
shoulder burdens other than his own.

"All right," he said stiffly; "don't make such a fuss!"

"You'll have me for a friend, Verney?"

"Yes; but I ain't going to kiss your forehead to make it well, you
know."

"May I call you John, when we're alone? And I wish you'd call me Esme,
instead of that horrid 'Fluff.'"

John pondered deeply.

"Look here," he said. "You can call me John, and I'll call you Esme,
when we're Torpids. And now, you'd better cut back to the house. I
must think this all out, and I can't think straight when I look at you."

"May I call you John once?"

"You are the silliest idiot I ever met, bar none. Call me 'John,' or
'Tom Fool,' or anything; but hook it afterwards!"

"Yes, John, I will. You're the only boy I ever met whom I really
wanted for a friend." He displayed a radiant face, turned suddenly,
and ran off. John watched him, frowning, because Fluff was a good
little chap, and yet, at times, such a bore!

He walked on alone, chewing the cud of a delightful experience; trying,
not unsuccessfully, to recall some of Mr. Desmond's anecdotes. How
proud Caesar was of his father! And the father, obviously, was just as
proud of his son. What a pair! And if only Caesar were his friend!
By Jove! It was rather a rum go, but John was as mad keen to call
Caesar friend as poor Fluff to call John friend. Serious food for
thought, this. "But I would never bother him," said John to himself,
"as Fluff has bothered me, never!"

"Hullo, Verney!"

"Hullo!" said John.

Coincidence had thrust Caesar out of his thoughts and on to the narrow
path in front of him.

"I'm not a ghost," said Caesar.

John hesitated.

"I was thinking of you," he confessed; "and then I heard your voice and
saw you. It gave me a start. I say, it _was_ good of your governor to
ask me."

"Hang my governor! He's the----"

Caesar closed his lips firmly, as if he feared that terrible adjectives
might burst from them. John missed the sparkling smile, the gay glance
of the eyes.

"What's up?" he demanded.

Caesar hesitated; looked at John, read, perhaps, the sympathy, the
honest interest, possibly the affection, in the grey orbs which met his
own so steadily.

"What's up?" lie repeated. "Why, I'm not going into Damer's, after