"Who is Cicely?"
"Cicely St. John; she is my cousin; she is altogether lovely," I cried, with enthusiasm, "and so is Uncle Paul; he is a missionary out here at Chen-si."
"A missionary—and at Chen-si—then God help him!"
He said the last under his breath, but I heard him.
"Oh, Mr. Crawford," I cried, earnestly, for I love Uncle Paul dearly, "you do not think he is in danger?"
"I should think he probably left, Miss Nina, before the troubles began, and you know," reassuringly, "'Ill news flies apace,' so that, as you have heard nothing to the contrary, you may take it for granted he is all right."
We had got to the end of our walk now, but he opened the gate for me, and still lingered.
"I want to know that you are quite safe," he said, smiling. "You see what a gaoler I am. Ah, there is Mrs. Ross."
I ran to her and kissed her joyfully.
"Nina, darling, how delightful; come to spend a long day with me, I hope?"