"I beg your pardon!" he said--and then, noticing Bob--"How are you,
Rainham?" He dived into a waiting taxi, and was whisked away.
"Did he bump you?" inquired Bob.
"No--though it would be almost a privilege to be bumped by anyone as
splendid as that!" Cecilia answered. "He knows you, too!--who is he,
Bobby?"
"That's General Harran, the Australian," said Bob proudly. "He's a great
man. I've run into him occasionally since I've been with the Australians
in France."
"He looks nice."
"He is nice," replied Bob. "Awful martinet about duty, but he treats
every one under him jolly well. Never forgets a face or a name, and he's
always got a decent word for everybody. He's had some quite long talks
to me, when we were waiting for some 'plane or other to come back."
"Why wouldn't he?" asked Cecilia, who considered it a privilege for
anyone to talk to her brother.
Bob regarded her in amazement.
"Good gracious!" he ejaculated. "Why, he's a major-general; I can tell
you, most men of his rank haven't any use for small fry like me--to talk
to, that is."
Cecilia had a flash of memory.
"Isn't he the general who was close by when you brought that German
aeroplane down behind our lines? Didn't he say nice things to you about
it?"
"Oh, that was only in the way of business," said Bob somewhat confused.
"The whole thing was only a bit of luck--and, of course, it was luck,
too, that he was there.
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