“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter—and anyhow, the one in the pram’s a duchess,” returned Wally. “I say, the duke’s fallen in love with you, Jim.”
“The duke,” a curly-haired person in a white coat, hesitated on the footpath near the two subalterns, then mustering his courage, came close to Jim and gravely presented him with his Teddy-bear. Jim received the gift as gravely, and shook hands with the small boy, to his great delight.
“Thanks, awfully,” he said. “It’s a splendid Teddy, isn’t it?”
The nurse, greatly scandalized, swooped down upon her charge, exhorting him to be ashamed, now, and not worry the gentleman. But the “duke” showed such distress when Jim attempted to return the Teddy-bear that the matter had to be adjusted by distracting his attention in the direction of some drilling soldiers, while Wally concealed the toy under the embroidered rug which protected the plump legs of the “duchess”—who submitted with delighted gurgles to being tickled under the chin. They withdrew reluctantly, urged by the still horrified nurse.
“See what it is to be beautiful and have the glad eye!” jeered Wally. “Dukes never give me Teddy-bears!”
“It’s my look of benevolent age,” Jim said, grinning. “Anyhow, young Wally, if you’ll stop beguiling the infant peerage, and attend to business, I’ll be glad. We’ll have Norah and Dad here presently.”
“I’m all attention,” said his friend. “But there’s nothing more to be said than that it is rum, is there? And we said that.”
“Norah gave me a letter from poor old O’Neill to show you,” Jim said. “I’ll read it, if you like.”
The merriment that was never very far from Wally Meadows’ eyes died out as his chum unfolded a sheet of paper, closely written.
“He wrote it in the hotel in Carrignarone, I suppose?” he asked gently.