vy me now,' he went on, in a dolorous
voice. 'It has been a grand time--I have never been so happy in my life;
but it will soon be over now. Only a fortnight more.'

'I am so glad you have been happy, Kester; and you do seem so much
better,' looking at him critically.

And indeed a great change had passed over the boy. His face was less
thin and sharp, and there was a tinge of healthy colour in his cheeks;
his eyes, too, were less sunken and hollow, and had lost their
melancholy expression. When Audrey had first seen him on that June
afternoon, there had been a subdued air about him that contrasted
painfully with his extreme youth; but now there was renewed life and
energy in his aspect, as though some heavy pressure had been suddenly
removed.

'I am ever so much better,' he returned gratefully; and it was then that
Audrey noticed for the first time his likeness to his brother. He was
really a nice-looking boy, and but for his want of health would have
been handsome. 'When I go home'--and here a cloud passed over his
face--'these weeks will seem like a dream. Fancy having to do nothing
all day but enjoy one's self from morning to night!'

'Why, I am sure you and Michael work hard enough.'

'Oh, but that is the best pleasure of all!' he replied eagerly. 'I
should not care for idleness. I like to feel I am making progress; and
Captain Burnett says I am getting on first-rate. And then think of our
study, Miss Ross!' and here Kester's face kindled with enthusiasm. 'How
I shall dream of those moors, and of those great patches of purple
heather, and the bees humming over the thyme, and the golden gorse, and
the bracken! No wonder Cyril wants to be in my place!'

'You and Michael are great friends, are you not, Kester?'

'Oh yes!' But though Kester turned on her a beaming look of assent, he
said no more. He had a boy's dislike to speak of his feelings; and
Audrey respected this shy reticence, for she asked no further questions.
But she knew Kester almost worshipped Michael, that a word from him
influenced him more than a dozen words from any other person; even
Cyril's opinion must defer to this new friend. For was not Captain
Burnett a hero? did he not wear the Victoria Cross? and were not those
scars the remains of glorious wounds, when he shed his blood freely for
those poor sick soldiers? And this hero, this king of men, this grave,
clear-eyed soldier, had thrown the aegis of his protection round
him--Kester--had st