In this strain the Colonel proceeded, wondering whether such abominable nonsense was interesting the child, whose gaze had now begun to reach out to sea. In reality Rupert was thrilled, and did not like to disturb the flow of a story so affecting. But the strength of his feelings was too much. He was obliged to suggest an amendment.
"Are you sure I didn't go upon a horse?" he asked.
"Why, of course, the unknown knight in question did, and the sheath of his sword clanked against his horse's side, as he dashed through the thicket."
"Had the fair-haired knight anything to eat all this time?"
This important problem was duly settled, and several others which were seen to be involved in such an intricate story; and a very happy conclusion was reached, when Mrs. Ray decided that it was time for Rupert to be taken home. She was about to lead him away, when the Colonel, who seldom spoke to her much, abruptly murmured:
"He has that Rupert's eyes."
For a moment she was quite taken aback, and then timorously replied: "Yes, they are very blue."
"Very blue," repeated the Colonel.
Mrs. Ray thereupon felt she must obviate an uncomfortable silence, and began with a nervous laugh:
"He was born when we were in Geneva, you know, and we used to call him 'our mountain boy,' saying that he had brought a speck of the mountain skies away in his eyes."