“Yes.”

Dead silence, broken only by the flapping of the window-curtains in the breeze.  Roy was not looking at his aunt now, but his eyes were fixed on the distant hills through the open window.  A blackbird now hovering on some jasmine outside, suddenly lifted up his voice and burst into an exultant song.  A faint smile flickered about Roy’s lips.

“Do legs never grow again like teeth?”

The pathos of tone saved Miss Bertram from smiling at the comicality of the question.

“I’m afraid not, dear.  Not until we reach heaven.”

Then there was silence again, broken at last by Roy’s saying in a very quiet tone,—­

“I want to see Dudley.”

Miss Bertram rose from her seat, but first she stooped to kiss him.

“You are quite a little hero,” she said; “I will send David to you.  My poor little Jonathan!”

A hot tear splashed on Roy’s forehead; he put up his hand and stroked his aunt’s face.

“Never mind, Aunt Judy, David made a better king than Jonathan would have I expect.  Don’t call Dudley just yet—­I—­I want to be alone.”

Miss Bertram left him, but sat down outside his door on a broad window ledge and cried like a child.

And then a short time after, Dudley stole softly into the room and Roy’s arms were clinging round his neck.

“Oh, Dudley, I’ve wanted you, kiss me!”

“You’re going to get well, old chap, aren’t you?  You’ll soon be out in the garden again.”

Dudley was speaking in the gruff quick tones he used when trying to hide his feelings.

“We’ll talk about that presently,” said Roy, lying back on his pillows and making Dudley take a seat on his bed.  “Dudley, do you know what a will is?”

“Yes; you’ve a strong will nurse always says.”

“No, not that kind of one.  Uncle James left a will when he died saying he left Norrington Court to father, and father left it to me.  It’s a piece of thick paper they write it down on, and it has some sealing wax on it.  Aunt Judy showed me father’s will once.”

Dudley did not look enlightened, so Roy went on,—­

“I want you to get a piece of paper and write down my will for me.  I will tell you what to say.”

Dudley slipped out of the room obediently and returned with a sheet of note paper, but this did not satisfy Roy.  “It must be a large sheet—­very large,” was his command.

After some minutes’ search Dudley came in with a sheet of foolscap, and then with pen and ink he began to write at Roy’s dictation: 

“When I am dead”—­

But Dudley’s pen stopped.  “You are not going to die, Roy?”

“I hope I am,” was the unexpected reply; “I’ve been asking God to make me.  I shouldn’t think many people lived after their legs were cut off:  I know I don’t want to!”

“But I want you to live,” cried poor Dudley; “oh!  Roy you couldn’t be so mean as to leave me all alone.  Oh, do unsay that prayer of yours.  You mustn’t die!”