"Is he quite well and safe, quite well and safe?" Granny asked nervously at this point, arriving just in time to hear the conclusion of the sergeant's explanation. "Oh, Chris, my darling, what have you been doing?"
"I'm a soldier now, my Granny," he stated proudly, with a defiant look at Briggs and myself. "He said I was, didn't you?" he asked, turning to the sergeant, who smiled again. "He's going to lend me his soldier clothes till you buy me some. He said he would."
"He'd have been here before if I could have got a lift, marm," explained the sergeant, "but it chanced nothing passed by us. It's been a long walk for the young gentleman, I'm afraid."
But Granny did not at once reply; she was looking at the little beggar with all the love of her heart overflowing her eyes, and as if she never again could bear to let him out of her sight. Indeed, for the moment she was so absorbed that I think she hardly realized what the sergeant said.
There was a slight pause, and then she said with much fervent gratitude and an old-fashioned courtesy of manner:
"I am more indebted to you than I can express for your kind care of my little grandson. It is, indeed, a great relief to my mind to see him back safely."
"Why, my Granny!" cried Chris, with a little skip and a laugh, "I _always_ was safe. There was nothing the matter with me!"
"Hush! my child," Granny then continued, though with an effort, as if the reaction from the anxiety she had been suffering was becoming too much for her control: "Will you not go round to the kitchen and rest? And will you kindly tell Parker, my butler, that I have sent you, and to see that you have some refreshment after your long walk."
"Thank you, marm," said the sergeant, touching his cap once more as he left, followed by a regretful glance from Chris.
"I should like to go with him," he remarked.
"My darling," began Granny reproachfully--then stopped short and tried to smile at me.
"I'm very silly," she said, as the tears filled her eyes; "but, my dear, I have been feeling so anxious, so anxious, you understand...."
She could say no more, but going to a wicker-chair near, she sat down, and covered her eyes with her hand.
I said nothing, for I knew that her tears were a relief to her overwrought feelings. So for a time there was silence, which was at length broken by the little beggar, who, looking at her with pity mingled with curiosity, remarked in a hushed voice: