perdition.--Don't you know Bertie Payne?" he continued, to his newly met
friend. "He was one of my subs before he renounced the devil and all his
works. He was with us at Barrackbore when you were in India."

"I do not think we have met," the other was beginning, when a young
lady--toward whom the Colonel had already cast some sharp, admiring
glances as she stood on the curbstone holding a hand of the smaller of
two little boys in smart sailor suits--uttered a cry of dismay. The
elder child had rushed into the road, as if to stop a passing omnibus,
not seeing that a hansom was coming up at speed.

The young man called Bertie dashed forward, and barely succeeded in
snatching the child from under the wheel. A scramble of horses' feet, an
imprecation or two shouted by the irritated driver, a noisy declaration
from the "fare" that he should lose his train, and the scuffle was over.

The little man, held firmly by the shoulder, was marched back to his
young guardian.

"Thank you!--oh, thank you a thousand times! You have saved his life!"
she exclaimed, fervently, in unsteady tones. Then to the child: "How
could you break your promise to stay by me, Cecil? You would have been
killed but for this gentleman!"

"I wanted to catch the 'omlibus' for you, auntie!" he cried, with an
irrepressible sob, though he gallantly tried to hold back his tears.

"Hope the little fellow is none the worse of his fright," said the
Colonel, advancing and raising his hat. "Can I be of any use?--can I
call a cab?"