"He told me about that. He wasn't really unkind to her. I, on the whole, like him, Ronald, and I think you can do a lot for him—I think your father would wish it."
"Would he?" said Ronald, his eyes sparkling.
"I think so. I expect God wants you to help him. He's a hard old man because he has no one to love him, but he did care for your father."
Ronald flung his arms round Mrs. Anderson's neck and kissed her.
That night it must be owned that he slept badly; and early—very early—in the morning he awoke.
"Times is pretty bad," thought the boy to himself; "and there's lots o' battles round. But oh, Giles! brave fathers for ever! You and me won't disgrace our fathers, will we, Giles?"
Then he got up and dressed himself, and went downstairs and waited until Mrs. Anderson arrived. As soon as she entered the room he said one word to her—"When?"
"Ten o'clock," said Mrs. Anderson. It was eight o'clock then.
"Two hours more," said Ronald.
During those two hours he was very busy. He packed his bricks, and helped Mrs. Anderson to put his very scanty wardrobe into a very tiny trunk. The time went by. Ten o'clock struck, and, sharp to the minute, a cab drew up at the door.