"You read it, Daddy. Don't make me. It hurts me; and I should only break down. It is only a dream I know; but it is a sad dream and is over all too soon!" Colonel Ogilvie read the passage which was an account of the fighting at Durk River in which numbers of the British were carried away by the rapid stream, the hale and those wounded by the terrible fire of the Boers alike. The list of the missing was headed by a name he knew.

"Major the Earl of Athlyne, of the Irish Hussars."

The old gentleman rose up as stiff as at the salute and raised his hat reverently as he said:

"A very gallant gentleman. My heart is with you, my little girl! A dream it may have been; but a sad ending to any dream!"

A week after Joy sought her father again in the garden. This time her step was buoyant, her face radiant, and her eyes bright. The moment her father saw he felt that it had something to do with what he called in his own mind "that infernal fellow." When she was close to him she said in a low voice that thrilled:

"He is not dead. Daddy! He was wounded and carried down the river and was captured by the Boers and taken up to Pretoria. They have put him in the Birdcage. Beasts! It's all here in the Tribune."

Colonel Ogilvie was distinctly annoyed. When he could look on Lord Athlyne as dead he could admire his bravery, and even tolerate the existence that had been. But this chopping and changing—this being dead and coming to life again—was disturbing. What sort of fellow was he that couldn't make up his mind on any subject? Couldn't he remain dead like a gentleman? He had died like one; wasn't that enough! Joy saw that he was not pleased. She was too glad for the moment to take her father's attitude to heart; but every instinct in her told her not to remain. So she laid the paper on his knee and said quietly: