"I like her," remarked Warren, with a nod. "She is awfully nice, Ralph. I wonder if ever you will hear anything about your father?"
"Yes," came the confident answer. "I feel sure that I shall; and sometimes, Warren, it may seem strange, but it comes to me that he is not dead, and that he will come back!"
"But if he were not dead he would not have gone off and left you all alone like this," objected Warren. "I should not think that."
"He may not be able to help it. There, we won't talk of it; only I cannot help thinking like that sometimes. Where is Charlton?"
The question brought the fact out that they were alone; their companion had gone off and left them there while they were talking.
"Now, where has that silly chap got to?" queried Warren, sitting up.
"Gone after a butterfly, perhaps. He will soon be back."
"But it is time that we began to move. He is such a silly fellow that he is as like as not to go and lose himself. Hallo! Charlton! Charlton! Coo-ee! Charlton!"
They paused and waited, but no reply came; and Warren got up, a trifle cross.
"Of all the silly kites!" he said. "What trouble has he got into now? Charlton, I say, where are you?"