"Roy, Mrs. Hawthorn wants you. She has got some letters for you."
Dudley came up excitedly to Roy, directly after dinner was over one Saturday afternoon.
"And I say," he continued; "bring them out and let us go down to the beach to read them together. The tide will be out till the evening."
Roy hastened off, and wondered at Mrs. Hawthorn's grave look.
"Your aunt has sent me some letters to give you, Roy. She has only just received them herself. They are about your friend in India."
"From Rob?" said Roy, with sparkling eyes. "Oh, I thought he never would write. How jolly! And I see his writing, that's my letter."
He held out his hand eagerly but Mrs. Hawthorn laid her hand on his shoulder gently.
"Yes, that was a letter he wrote to you before the fighting. Your aunt has heard since—from a nurse who nursed him."
Something in her tone frightened Roy.
"Has he been wounded? He is well again, isn't he?"