would have the sense to accept a very wonderful gift that’s going to be offered to you.”
“Is it a horse?” asked the little Scout instantly, the defiance beginning to fade.
“No,” said Jamie, “it’s something worth more than a great many horses. Never mind that right now. There is something else I want to tell you. I just came from the hospital.”
Slowly the little person drew away from Jamie. Slowly the gray eyes widened. Slowly the hands clenched. Slowly the narrow chest heaved up and sank back again.
“Aw!” said the youngster, harshly, “aw! he ain’t gone and slept the beautiful sleep, has he?”
Jamie sat still and looked out across the ocean. It was a blow he found himself powerless to deliver. Slowly his eyes turned to the horrified face of the child beside him, and suddenly the little Scout launched a quivering figure into his arms and buried a twisted face on his breast and for a short time Jamie had difficulty in holding the writhing body in his arms together. A curious thought struck him. That rock that he had called the throne was not very well named. It seemed to be a place where people brought their troubles. In an earlier experience with it he had held the body of a woman tortured to the extreme limit of endurance. Now he was holding the body of a child so lean and slight that he could scarcely manage his long arms to give the support that was needed.
“Don’t!” begged Jamie. “Don’t take it like that!
