Chapter Five.
Ralph Hilchester had never felt better pleased in the whole course of his life than when he got Phyllis’s letter. That she should tell him that she was in trouble was more delightful to him than even a costly present would be—than even half-a-crown would be—and costly presents and half-crowns were rare treasures in the Rectory household.
His first determination was to tell his brother and sisters, but on second thoughts he resolved to keep to himself the delicious fact that Phyllis had written to him. He opened the blotted sheet of paper and looked at the words again:
“Come and save me; I am in the claws of a dragon.”
“I should think I just will,” thought Ralph; “it is exactly what I am made for. I always guessed there was something heroic about me. Fancy, in these prosaic days, having to deliver a princess from a dragon; I declare I feel exactly like Saint George of England.”
So Ralph held his head very high, and, with the precious letter reposing against his heart, entered the Rectory. There dismay and indignation met him on every side.
“Oh Ralph,” cried Rose, “what do you think? You know what a jolly afternoon we were all going to have!”
“Well?” said Ralph, his brown eyes dancing.