"Jimmy—old Jimmy—I didn't mean——"
Jimmy raised his face cautiously, looked about him to be sure that no eyes save those of Paul could note his swollen eyelids and his quivering lips. "I know you didn't," he gulped. "But you don't understand me; you don't know how wonderful she is. You haven't thought that she hasn't got a friend in the world—'cept me; she told me that," he added proudly.
"Did she now!" Old Paul sat up and looked at the boy. "She's more wonderful than I thought, Jimmy. And I suppose you'd do anything for her—die for her?"
"I would!" exclaimed the boy earnestly. "If I thought she was in trouble—or anybody was going to do anything that would hurt her—I'd——"
"I know—I know, Jimmy," replied Paul, with a grave nod. "And it's a brave feeling—isn't it, boy? Makes you tingle all over, especially at the tips of the fingers. Makes you carry your head up, and draw your breath quickly—eh?"
"Why—how do you know, Old Paul?" asked the boy, staring at him.
"Oh—just guessed it," said Paul, with a little laugh. "Come on, Jimmy Quixote, let's join the ladies."
"What's 'Quixote'?" asked Jimmy, getting slowly to his feet.
"Oh, he was a gentleman who went out to fight for ladies—and he tilted at windmills and things," said Paul. "But he was rather a good sort, Jimmy; and I think I like you the better for this afternoon. You don't mind my calling you 'Jimmy Quixote,' do you?"
"Not if he was that sort of man," replied Jimmy.