“Are you strong?” he said to her, when Jimmy’s voice ceased for a moment to demand from him information or to pour upon him direct statement.

“Oh yes.  I’ve never been seriously ill in my life.  Don’t I look strong?” she asked.

“I don’t think you do, but I feel as if you are.”

“It’s the wiry kind of strength, I suppose.”

“The mater’s a stayer,” quoth Jimmy, and forthwith took up the wondrous tale with his hero, who began to consult him seriously on the question of “points.”

“If you’d had to give a decision, Jimmy, which of us would have got it, Jenkins or I?”

Jimmy looked very grave and earnest.

“It’s jolly difficult to tell a thing like that, isn’t it?” he said, after a longish pause.  “You see, you’re both so jolly strong, aren’t you?”

His dark eyes gazed at the bulk of Dion.

“Well, which is the quicker?” demanded Dion.

But Jimmy was not to be drawn.

“I think you’re both as quick as—­as cats,” he returned diplomatically, seeking anxiously for the genuine sporting comparison that would be approved at the ring-side.  “Don’t you, mater?”

Mrs. Clarke huskily agreed.  They were now nearing Claridge’s, and Jimmy was insistent that Dion should come in and have a real jam tea with them.

“Do, Mr. Leith, if you have the time,” said Mrs. Clarke, but without any pressure.

“The strawberry they have is ripping, I can tell you!” cried Jimmy, with ardor.

But Dion refused.  Till he was certain of Rosamund’s attitude he felt he simply couldn’t accept Mrs. Clarke’s hospitality.  He was obliged to get home that day.  Mrs. Clarke did not ask why, but Jimmy did, and had to be put off with an evasion, the usual mysterious “business,” which, of course, a small boy couldn’t dive into and explore.

Dion thought Mrs. Clarke was going to say good-by without any mention of Rosamund, but when they reached Claridge’s she said: 

“Your wife and I didn’t decide on a day for the Turkish songs.  You remember I mentioned them to you the other night?  I can’t recollect whether she left it to me to fix a time, or whether I left it to her.  Can you find out?  Do tell her I was stupid and forgot.  Will you?”

Dion said he would.

“I think they’ll interest her.  Now, Jimmy!”

But Jimmy hung on his god.

“I say, you’ll come again now!  You promise!”

What could Dion do?

“You put your honor into it?” pursued Jimmy, with desperate earnestness.  “You swear?”

“If I swear in the open street the police will take me up,” said Dion jokingly.

“Not they!  One from the shoulder from you and I bet they lose enough claret to fill a bucket.  You’ve given your honor, hasn’t he, mater?”

“Of course we shall see him again,” said Mrs. Clarke, staring at Dion.

“What curious eyes she has!” Dion thought, as he walked homeward.