buried his face in the pillow. "I love her! I love her!" he moaned out. And then he hated himself for his folly.
At this moment a little childish footstep was heard tramping up the stairs; tap—tap—tap—tap, climbing up with much exertion, but with eager haste, and then a sweet little childish voice said, "Mr. Jacymf, Mr. Jacymf, are you there?"
Jacynth opened the door with a wildly beating heart. Could she have sent him a message? "What is it, Ronny, my man?" he said, looking down upon the child's curly, tawny hair and bright, innocent, hazel eyes that were so like his mother's.
"Hulloa!" cried Ronny, surveying the portmanteau and the litter of clothes on the floor, "are you going away?"
"Yes, old boy."
"Is Grandison going too?"
"No; not Grandison. What do you want, Ronny?"
"I want you not to go away!"
"Anything else?"
"Yes. Why can't you come with us, if you are going away?"
"Come with you? Where?"
"With me and Mummy. Mummy says we shall go to a nicer place than this. And I may play cricket. I wanted you to come and play with me and Grandison. But I s'pose you can't
