“I daresay it was our Norman, and the little girl you saw was his adopted sister, Hilda. If Norman had only known—” said Harry. And then he went on to tell of how Norman had saved the little girl from the burning boat, and how he had cared for her since. By and by they spoke of other things and had some music, but the new partner said little, and when it was time for the young men to go, he said he would walk down the street with them.
“So, Charlie, you have found the friends who were so kind to me long ago,” said his brother, as they shut the gate.
“Yes,” said Charlie, eagerly, “I don’t know how I should have lived in this strange land without them. It has been a different place to me since Harry came to our office, and took me home with him.”
“And I suppose I am quite forgotten.”
“Oh, no, indeed!” said Harry, and Charlie added—
“Don’t you mind, Harry, your sister Rose said to-night that I reminded Miss Elliott of some one she knew long ago. It was Allan, I daresay, she meant. My mother used to say I looked as Allan did when he went away.”
They did not speak again till they came near the house. Then Charlie said,—
“It is not very late, Harry. I wonder whether they are up yet. There is a light.”
“Allan,” said Harry, lingering behind, “Marian died before my father. Don’t speak of her to Graeme.”
Graeme was still sitting on the steps.