“Oh, we don’t want you here,” was the reply; “we are going to have a quiet chat together. Just you amuse yourself, and don’t trouble us.”
The little fellow turned dolefully away, went up to the window, and flattened his nose against the pane, looking after his mother as she crossed the street; soiled his finger by drawing lines across the glass which he had dimmed with his breath; then, tired of that diversion, tried to pull off the little twists of wool which formed the fringe of the curtain; and then suddenly making up to the table, laid his exploring hand on the work-box.
“There now, Eddy, you tormenting boy, just take your hands off,” cried Lily, turning round just in time to prevent its contents being scattered on the floor. She roughly snatched the box from the child, and giving him something very much like a shake, sent him half crying to another end of the room.
“He is the most mischievous little monkey,” she said to her companion; “would you believe it, he pulled off the wig of my new doll!”
“I think that brothers are great torments,” observed Lizzie.
“Oh, not such brothers as George,” replied Lily; “he is always like sunshine in the house. I am so glad that he is coming from school. I have been counting the days to the holidays.”
“Well, that’s odd,” said Lizzie; “I always dread them. In the morning of the day when our boys return, I always think as soon as I awake, ‘Dear, dear, we’ll have no more peace in the house!’ They are so noisy, so rude, so troublesome, so fond of worrying and teasing us girls, I’m sure that it’s a happy day for us when the coach comes to take them back to school.”
“They must be very different from George. I always am happier when he is with me; and it seems as if he made me better too.”
“But he cannot amuse himself with you. Does he not like hocky, and cricket, and football, and despise the diversions of girls?”
“He does like cricket, and that sort of thing, and is a capital hand at it too, but he does not despise playing with us. I do not think that he despises anything but what is mean or wrong. You don’t know how fond little baby is of him; and as for Eddy, he is never so merry as when he is at romps with Georgie, or listening to one of his stories. I don’t know how it is, but every one seems more happy, and everything looks brighter, when Georgie is at home.”