Charis clapped her hands, with a triumphant little laugh.
'But I knew him first!' she exclaimed, 'Yes, Aunt Netta, it's him!— it's him, him, HIM! And isn't it just perfectly glorious?'
'You must excuse my niece, sir—that is to say, if you are really
Colonel—'
'Baigent, ma'am. I think you know my name; though how or why that should be, passes my comprehension.'
She bowed to him, timidly, a trifle stiffly. 'It is an honour to have met you, sir. I have an aunt at home, an invalid, who will be very proud when she hears of this. She has followed your career with great interest—I believe I may say, ever since you were a boy at the college. She has talked about you so often, you must forgive the child for being excited. Come, Charis! Thank Colonel Baigent, and say good-night.'
'But isn't he coming with us?' The child's face fell, and her voice was full of dismay. 'Oh! but you must! Aunt Louisa will cry her eyes out if you don't. And on Christmas Eve, too!'
Colonel Baigent looked at Miss Netta.
'I couldn't ask it—I really couldn't,' she murmured.
He smiled. 'The hour is unconventional, to be sure. But if your aunt will forgive a very brief call there is nothing would give me greater pleasure.'
He meant it, too!