"Young Parker, who is farming the bit of ground next to here," he said, with almost unnecessary distinctness. "You can see his house through the trees."
"Young Parker? I remember young Parker." Covertly the Celebrated Actor watched the boy's face, and what he saw there seemed to afford him satisfaction.
"Where is the little dog buried?" asked the boy, quietly.
"Underneath the old yew tree," said the General. "Beryl put a ring of stones around his grave this afternoon."
"I see," said the boy. "Thank you. I'm sorry to have troubled you."
The next instant he was gone, and it was the Actor who stopped the Soldier as he was on the point of going after him.
"The boy has got his part," he remarked, cryptically. "At present he requires no prompting."
"What the deuce are you talking about?" demanded the General, irritably.
But the Celebrated Actor was himself once more.
"Leave it to me, my dear fellow," he murmured, magnificently, throwing back his head in another of those famous gestures which were the pride and delight of countless multitudes. "Leave it entirely to me. The stage is set: very soon the curtain will ring up." He stalked to the window, and stood for a moment on the path outside, while the other two looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders.