When the morning brought Henri, the French boy was not alone—and the rather boisterous greeting between the reunited inseparables was witnessed by a tall, broad-shouldered man of most distinguished bearing and a beautiful child with a shower of bright curls over her shoulders.
In the presence of the important visitor the surgeon and the nurse were all deference, and eager to give information that would interest.
But the tall stranger then had eyes for no other than the boy propped up among the pillows of the hospital bed.
“My brave lad,” he said, leaning over the boy with the bandaged head, and lifting Billy’s hand from the coverlet, “what I might say would poorly express my gratitude and admiration for your heroic action. Fredonia, my daughter, would add her tribute of heartfelt thanks to mine.”
The child shyly extended her hand, which Billy touched as he would a flower.
With an arm over the shoulders of Henri, the tall man amended the initial address by saying:
“What I most desire now is to have both of you in the service at Odessa, that I may have opportunity to advance your interests and in some substantial way emphasize my grateful appreciation of your splendidly courageous action on behalf of my child.”
“But we are already spoken for in Warsaw,” intimated Billy.
The man smiled as he quietly remarked:
“Perhaps they may not speak louder than Sergius. Until you have mended, then, my lad, we will await final decision.”