I was nearly home before I heard the clatter of a horse’s feet, and Jim rode up alongside of me. He was just the same as ever, with a smile on his face. You didn’t often see it without one.

I knew he had come after me, and had given up his own fancy for mine.

“I thought you were going to stay and turn good,” I said. “Why didn’t you?”

“It might have been better for me if I had,” he said, “but you know very well, Dick, that whatever turns up, whether it’s for good or evil, you and I go together.”

We looked at one another for a moment. Our eyes met. We didn’t say anything; but we understood one another as well as if we had talked for a week. We rode up to the door of our cottage without speaking. The sun had set, and some of the stars had come out, early as it was, for it was late autumn. Aileen was sitting on a bench in the verandah reading, mother was working away as usual at something in the house. Mother couldn’t read or write, but you never caught her sitting with her hands before her. Except when she was asleep I don’t think she ever was quite still.

Aileen ran out to us, and stood while we let go our horses, and brought the saddles and bridles under the verandah.

“I’m glad you’re come home for one thing,” she said. “There is a message from father. He wants you to meet him.”

“Who brought it?” I said.

“One of the Dalys—Patsey, I think.”

“All right,” said Jim, kissing her as he lifted her up in his great strong arms. “I must go in and have a gossip with the old woman. Aileen can tell me after tea. I daresay it’s not so good that it won’t keep.”

Mother was that fond of both of us that I believe, as sure as I sit here, she’d have put her head on the block, or died in any other way for either of her boys, not because it was her duty, but glad and cheerful like to have saved us from death or disgrace. I think she was fonder of us two than she was of Aileen. Mothers are generally fonder of their sons. Why I never could see; and if she thought more of one than the other it was Jim. He was the youngest, and he had that kind of big, frolicsome, loving way with him, like a Newfoundland pup about half-grown. I always used to think, somehow, nobody ever seemed to be able to get into a pelter with Jim, not even father, and that was a thing as some people couldn’t be got to believe. As for mother and Aileen, they were as fond of him as if he’d been a big baby.

So while lie went to sit down on the stretcher, and let mother put her arms round his neck and hug him and cry over him, as she always did if he’d been away more than a day or two, I took a walk down the creek with Aileen in the starlight, to hear all about this message from father. Besides, I could see that she was very serious over it, and I thought there might be something in it more than common.