"Good-bye," he said, slipping a little brass curtain-ring on my left
hand. "I'm coming back when I'm a man. Then we'll get married, and live
in a house. And I'll shoot rabbits for dinner. Would you like that?"
"Yes," I answered, promptly.
He surveyed me for an anxious moment. Our heads were very nearly on a
level.
"Don't you grow too tall," he cautioned.
"No," I promised, and was half-way to the door, when he caught me again
by the hand.
"If anybody makes you cry," he whispered, ardently, "you write to me,
and I'll come back."