ll never--"

"Look here, Punch," interrupted Pen, "I don't like butter."

"I do," said the boy, with his eyes dancing merrily. "Wished I had had
some with that bread's morning."

"Now, you know what I mean," cried Pen; "and mind this, if you get
talking like that to me again I will go off and leave you."

"Ha, ha!" said the boy softly, "don't believe you. All right then, I
won't say any more if you don't like it; but I shall think about it all
the more."

"There you go again," cried Pen. "What is it you want? What are you
trying to get? You are hurting yourself again."

"Oh, I was only trying to get at that there sixpence," said the poor
fellow, with a dismal look in his face. "I'm half-afraid it's lost.--
No, it ain't! I just touched it then."

"Then don't touch it any more."

"But I want it."

"No, you don't, not till that girl comes; and you had better keep it
till we say good-bye."

"Think so?" said Punch.

Pen nodded.

"You think she will come again, then?"

"She is sure to."

"Ah," said Punch, rather drowsily now, "I say, how nice it feels for any
one to be kind to you when you are bad."

"Very," said Pen thoughtfully. "Pain gone off?"

"Yes; I am all right now. Think she will come back soon?"

"No, not for hours and hours."

"Oh, I say, Pen. Think it would be safe for me to go to sleep?"

"Yes, quite."

"Then I think I will, for I feel as if I could sleep for a week."

"Go to sleep then. It's the best thing you can do."

"Well, I will. Only, promise me one thing: if she comes while I'm
asleep, I--I--want you--promise--promise--wake--"

"Poor fellow!" said Pen, "he's as weak as weak. But that breakfast has
been like life to him. Well, there's some truth in what they say, that
when things come to the worst they begin to mend."

A few minutes later, after noting that his poor wounded comrade had sunk
into a deep sleep, Pen stole gently out among the trees, keeping a sharp
lookout for danger as he swept the slopes of the valley in search of
signs of the enemy, for he felt that it was too much to hope for the
dark-green or scarlet of one of their own men.

But the valley now seemed thoroughly deserted, and a restful feeling
began to steal through the lad's being, for everything looked peaceful
and beautiful, and as if the horrors of war had never visited the land.

The sun was rising higher, and he was glad to take shelter beneath the
rugged boughs of a gnarled old cork-