We had been together, we three, in my rooms, David telling meabout the fairy language and Porthos lolling on the sofalistening, as one may say. It is his favourite place of a dullday, and under him were some sheets of newspaper, which I spreadthere at such times to deceive my housekeeper, who thinks dogsshould lie on the floor.

Fairy me tribber is what you say to the fairies when you wantthem to give you a cup of tea, but it is not so easy as it looks,for all the r's should be pronounced as w's, and I forget this sooften that David believes I should find difficulty in makingmyself understood.

"What would you say," he asked me, "if you wanted them to turnyou into a hollyhock?" He thinks the ease with which they canturn you into things is their most engaging quality.

The answer is Fairy me lukka, but though he had often told methis I again forgot the lukka.

"I should never dream," I said (to cover my discomfiture), "ofasking them to turn me into anything. If I was a hollyhock Ishould soon wither, David."

He himself had provided me with this objection not long before,but now he seemed to think it merely silly. "Just before thetime to wither begins," he said airily, "you say to them Fairy mebola."

Fairy me bola means "Turn me back again," and David's discoverymade me uncomfortable, for I knew he had hitherto kept hisdistance of the fairies mainly because of a feeling that theirconversions are permanent.

So I returned him to his home. I send him home from my roomsunder the care of Porthos. I may walk on the other side unknownto them, but they have no need of me, for at such times nothingwould induce Porthos to depart from the care of David. If anyoneaddresses them he growls softly and shows the teeth that crunchbones as if they were biscuits. Thus amicably the two pass on toMary's house, where Porthos barks his knock-and-ring bark tillthe door is opened. Sometimes he goes in with David, but on thisoccasion he said good-bye on the step. Nothing remarkable inthis, but he did not return to me, not that day nor next day norin weeks and months. I was a man distraught; and David wore hisknuckles in his eyes. Conceive it, we had lost our dear Porthos--at least--well--something disquieting happened. I don't quite knowwhat to think of it even now. I know what David thinks. However, you shall think as you choose.

My first hope was that Porthos had strolled to the Gardens andgot locked in for the night, and almost as soon as Lock-out wasover I was there to make inquiries. But there was no news ofPorthos, though I learned that someone was believed to have spentthe night in the Gardens, a young gentleman who walked outhastily the moment the gates were opened. He had said nothing,however, of having seen a dog. I feared an accident now, for Iknew no thief could steal him, yet even an accident seemedincredible, he was always so cautious at crossings; also therecould not possibly have been an accident to Porthos without therebeing an accident to something else.

David in the middle of his games would suddenly remember thegreat blank and step aside to cry. It was one of his qualitiesthat when he knew he was about to cry he turned aside to do itand I always respected his privacy and waited for him. Of coursebeing but a little boy he was soon playing again, but his suddenfloods of feeling, of which we never spoke, were dear to me inthose desolate days.

We had a favourite haunt, called the Story-seat, and we went backto that, meaning not to look at the grass near it where Porthosused to squat, but we could not help looking at it sideways, andto our distress a man was sitting on the acquainted spot. Herose at our approach and took two steps toward us, so quick thatthey were almost jumps, then as he saw that we were passingindignantly I thought I heard him give a little cry.

I put him down for one of your garrulous fellows who try to lurestrangers into talk, but next day, when we found him sitting onthe Story-seat itself, I had a longer scrutiny of him. He wasdandiacally dressed, seemed to tell something under twenty yearsand had a handsome wistful face atop of a heavy, lumbering,almost corpulent figure, which however did not betokeninactivity; for David's purple hat (a conceit of his mother's ofwhich we were both heartily ashamed) blowing off as we neared himhe leapt the railings without touching them and was back with itin three seconds; only instead of delivering it straightway heseemed to expect David to chase him for it.

You have introduced yourself to David when you jump the railingswithout touching them, and William Paterson (as proved to be hisname) was at once our friend. We often found him waiting for usat the Story-seat, and the great stout fellow laughed and weptover our tales like a three-year-old. Often he said withextraordinary pride, "You are telling the story to me quite asmuch as to David, ar'n't you?" He was of an innocence such asyou shall seldom encounter, and believed stories at which evenDavid blinked. Often he looked at me in quick alarm if Davidsaid that of course these things did not really happen, andunable to resist that appeal I would reply that they really did. I never saw him irate except when David was still sceptical, butthen he would say quite warningly "He says it is true, so it mustbe true." This brings me to that one of his qualities, which atonce gratified and pained me, his admiration for myself. Hiseyes, which at times had a rim of red, were ever fixed upon mefondly except perhaps when I told him of Porthos and said thatdeath alone could have kept him so long from my side. ThenPaterson's sympathy was such that he had to look away. He wasshy of speaking of himself so I asked him no personal questions,but concluded that his upbringing must have been lonely, toaccount for his ignorance of affairs, and loveless, else howcould he have felt such a drawing to me?

I remember very well the day when the strange, and surelymonstrous, suspicion first made my head tingle. We had beenblown, the three of us, to my rooms by a gust of rain; it wasalso, I think, the first time Paterson had entered them. "Takethe sofa, Mr. Paterson," I said, as I drew a chair nearer to thefire, and for the moment my eyes were off him. Then I saw that,before sitting down on the sofa, he was spreading the day's paperover it. "Whatever makes you do that?" I asked, and he startedlike one bewildered by the question, then went white and pushedthe paper aside.

David had noticed nothing, but I was strangely uncomfortable,and, despite my efforts at talk, often lapsed into silence, to beroused from it by a feeling that Paterson was looking at mecovertly. Pooh! what vapours of the imagination were these. Iblew them from me, and to prove to myself, so to speak, that theywere dissipated, I asked him to see David home. As soon as I wasalone, I flung me down on the floor laughing, then as quicklyjumped up and was after them, and very sober too, for it was cometo me abruptly as an odd thing that Paterson had set off withoutasking where David lived.

Seeing them in front of me, I crossed the street and followed.They were walking side by side rather solemnly, and perhapsnothing remarkable happened until they reached David's door. Isay perhaps, for something did occur. A lady, who has severalpretty reasons for frequenting the Gardens, recognised David inthe street, and was stooping to address him, when Paterson didsomething that alarmed her. I was too far off to see what itwas, but had he growled "Hands off!" she could not have scurriedaway more precipitately. He then ponderously marched his chargeto the door, where, assuredly, he did a strange thing. Insteadof knocking or ringing, he stood on the step and called outsharply, "Hie, hie, hie!" until the door was opened.

The whimsy, for it could be nothing more, curtailed me of mysleep that night, and you may picture me trying both sides of thepillow.

I recalled other queer things of Paterson, and they came back tome charged with new meanings. There was his way of shakinghands. He now did it in the ordinary way, but when first we knewhim his arm had described a circle, and the hand had sometimesmissed mine and come heavily upon my chest instead. His walk,again, might more correctly have been called a waddle.

There were his perfervid thanks. He seldom departed withoutthanking me with an intensity that was out of proportion to thelittle I had done for him. In the Gardens, too, he seemed everto take the sward rather than the seats, perhaps a wisepreference, but he had an unusual way of sitting down. I candescribe it only by saying that he let go of himself and wentdown with a thud.

I reverted to the occasion when he lunched with me at the Club.We had cutlets, and I noticed that he ate his in a somewhatfinicking manner; yet having left the table for a moment toconsult the sweets-card, I saw, when I returned, that there wasnow no bone on his plate. The waiters were looking at him rathercuriously.

David was very partial to him, but showed it in a somewhatsingular manner, used to pat his head, for instance. Iremembered, also, that while David shouted to me or Irene toattract our attention, he usually whistled to Paterson, he couldnot explain why.

These ghosts made me to sweat in bed, not merely that night, butoften when some new shock brought them back in force, yet,unsupported, they would have disturbed me little by day. Day,however, had its reflections, and they came to me while I wasshaving, that ten minutes when, brought face to face with theharsher realities of life, we see things most clearly as theyare. Then the beautiful nature of Paterson loomed offensively,and his honest eyes insulted over me. No one come to nigh twentyyears had a right to such faith in his fellow-creatures. Hecould not backbite, nor envy, nor prevaricate, nor jump at meanmotives for generous acts. He had not a single base story aboutwomen. It all seemed inhuman.

What creatures we be! I was more than half ashamed of Paterson'sfaith in me, but when I saw it begin to shrink I fought for it.An easy task, you may say, but it was a hard one, for gradually achange had come over the youth. I am now arrived at a time whenthe light-heartedness had gone out of him; he had lost his zestfor fun, and dubiety sat in the eyes that were once so certain.He was not doubtful of me, not then, but of human nature ingeneral; that whilom noble edifice was tottering. He mixed withboys in the Gardens; ah, mothers, it is hard to say, but howcould he retain his innocence when he had mixed with boys? Heheard your talk of yourselves, and so, ladies, that part of theedifice went down. I have not the heart to follow him in all hisdiscoveries. Sometimes he went in flame at them, but for themost part he stood looking on, bewildered and numbed, like onemoaning inwardly.

He saw all, as one fresh to the world, before he had time tobreathe upon the glass. So would your child be, madam, if bornwith a man's powers, and when disillusioned of all else, he wouldcling for a moment longer to you, the woman of whom, before hesaw you, he had heard so much. How you would strive to cheathim, even as I strove to hide my real self from Paterson, andstill you would strive as I strove after you knew the game wasup.

The sorrowful eyes of Paterson stripped me bare. There were dayswhen I could not endure looking at him, though surely I have longceased to be a vain man. He still met us in the Gardens, but forhours he and I would be together without speaking. It was soupon the last day, one of those innumerable dreary days whenDavid, having sneezed the night before, was kept at home inflannel, and I sat alone with Paterson on the Story-seat. Atlast I turned to address him. Never had we spoken of whatchained our tongues, and I meant only to say now that we must go,for soon the gates would close, but when I looked at him I sawthat he was more mournful than ever before; he shut his eyes sotightly that a drop of blood fell from them.

"It was all over, Paterson, long ago," I broke out harshly, "whydo we linger?"

He beat his hands together miserably, and yet cast me appealinglooks that had much affection in them.

"You expected too much of me," I told him, and he bowed his head."I don't know where you brought your grand ideas of men and womenfrom. I don't want to know," I added hastily.

"But it must have been from a prettier world than this," I said:"are you quite sure that you were wise in leaving it?"

He rose and sat down again. "I wanted to know you," he repliedslowly, "I wanted to be like you."

"And now you know me," I said, "do you want to be like me still?I am a curious person to attach oneself to, Paterson; don't yousee that even David often smiles at me when he thinks he isunobserved. I work very hard to retain that little boy's love;but I shall lose him soon; even now I am not what I was to him;in a year or two at longest, Paterson, David will grow out ofme."

The poor fellow shot out his hand to me, but "No," said I, "youhave found me out. Everybody finds me out except my dog, andthat is why the loss of him makes such a difference to me. Shallwe go, Paterson?"

He would not come with me, and I left him on the seat; when I wasfar away I looked back, and he was still sitting there forlornly.

For long I could not close my ears that night: I lay listening, Iknew not what for. A scare was on me that made me dislike thedark, and I switched on the light and slept at last. I wasroused by a great to-do in the early morning, servants knockingexcitedly, and my door opened, and the dear Porthos I had mournedso long tore in. They had heard his bark, but whence he came noone knew.

He was in excellent condition, and after he had leaped upon mefrom all points I flung him on the floor by a trick I know, andlay down beside him, while he put his protecting arm round me andlooked at me with the old adoring eyes.

But we never saw Paterson again. You may think as you choose.