Juanita came to open the door at the knock, and Daisy heard her saying something about the doctor’s orders, and keeping quiet, and no excitement.  Daisy could not stand that.

“O Capt.  Drummond—­come in! come in!” she cried.  And in came the Captain.  He looked wonderfully sober at his poor little playfellow.  But Daisy looked all smiles at him.

“Is your furlough over?  Are you going, Capt.  Drummond?”

“I am off, Daisy.”

“I am so glad you came to see me!” she said, putting out her little hand to him.  The Captain took it and held it and seemed almost unable to speak.

“Daisy, I would have run the risk of being cashiered, rather than not have done it.”

“What is that?”

“Cashiered?  Having my epaulettes pulled off.”

“Do you care a great deal for your epaulettes?” said Daisy.

The Captain laughed, with the water standing in his eyes.  Yes, absolutely, his bright sparkling eyes had drops in them.

“Daisy, I have brought you our land fish—­that we had such trouble for.”

“The trilobite!  O did you?” exclaimed Daisy as he placed it before her.  “I wanted to see it again, but I was afraid you wouldn’t have time before you went.”  She looked at it eagerly.

“Keep it Daisy; and keep a little bit of friendship for me with it—­will you? in case we meet again some day.”

“O Capt.  Drummond—­don’t you want it?”

“No; but I want you to remember the conditions.”

“When will you come to Melbourne again?”

“Can’t say, Daisy; I am afraid, not till you will have got the kingdom of England quite out of all its difficulties.  We were just going into the battle of Hastings, you know; don’t you recollect?”

“How nice that was!” said Daisy regretfully.  “I don’t think I shall ever forget about the Saxon Heptarchy, and Egbert, and Alfred.”

“How about forgetting me?”

“You know I couldn’t,” said Daisy with a most genial smile.  “O Capt.  Drummond!”—­she added, as a flash of sudden thought crossed her face.

“What now, Daisy?”

The child looked at him with a most earnest, inquisitive wistful gaze.  The Captain had some difficulty to stand it.

“O Capt.  Drummond,” she repeated,—­“are you going to be ashamed of Christ?”

[Illustration]

The young soldier was strangely enough confused by this simple question.  His embarrassment was even evident.  He hesitated for a reply, and it did not readily dome.  When it came, it was an evasion.

“That is right, Daisy,” he said; “stand by your colours.  He is a poor soldier that carries them behind his back in the face of the enemy.  But whatever field you die in, I should like to be alongside of you.”