Both women were in tears when the song died away, and Jack's own eyes were suspiciously bright.
"My dear boy," said Mrs. Grahame, wiping her eyes, "I do believe you are going to a life of joy and of well-earned triumph. I do heartily believe it."
"It is all Hilda's doings," said Jack, "and yours. All Hilda's and yours, Aunt Mildred. I shall not forget."
Here Hugh, who had been listening spellbound, asked suddenly, "What was the name of the boat which the gentleman who begins with O made to go swiftly over the sea when he played with his hand?"
"The Argo, dear," said Hildegarde.
"It is that boat he should go in," nodding to Jack. "It would leap like an unicorn, wouldn't it, if he played those beautiful things which he just played?"
And now Colonel Ferrers drove up to the door, with the brown cob and the yellow wagon. The last words were said; the precious violin was carefully stowed under the seat. Jack kissed Mrs. Grahame warmly, and exchanged with Hildegarde a long, silent pressure of the hand, in which there was a whole world of kindness and affection and comradeship. Boys and girls can be such good friends, if they only know how!
"Boot and saddle!" cried the Colonel.
"Good-by!" cried the lad, springing into the wagon. "Good-by! Don't forget the ostrich gentleman!"
"Good-by, dear Jack!"