“Frank, old lad!” he cried excitedly, as the chain was replaced; and he seized his companion by the shoulders, and shook him. “Oh, I am glad to see you again.”
“And I you,” cried the lad, as full of excitement.
“Hah! these are queer times. I am fit to touch now. Did you ever see such a miserable, dirty beggar as I was that day in the Park?”
“Don’t talk about that, Drew,” cried Frank; “come upstairs.”
“Yes, we may as well sit down, for I’m nearly run off my legs. I say, did you get hurt in the crowd?”
“A little,” said Frank eagerly. “Were you there?”
Drew did not reply till they were in the room on the first floor looking over the Park; and then he threw himself full length on one of the couches, while Frank closed and locked the door.
“Not laziness, old lad—fagged, and must rest when I can. Was I there? Of course I was. But oh, what a mess we made of it! Everything was well thought out; but you were too strong for us. We should have got them all away if they had not trapped us with the foot guards. Some soldier must have planned it all. Our fellows fought like lions till they began firing volleys and drove all before them with fixed bayonets. Poor dear old Frank! I am sorry for you.”
“And I’m as sorry for you,” said the boy sadly, as he pressed the thin, white, girlish hand which held his.
“Sorry for me?” said Drew sharply. “I’m all right.”