"It doesn't matter. He is only sorry I can't play. And so am I," added Jean, her chest heaving. "You must learn to get over those stones, you know. Boys never ought to be cowards."
Cyril looked up gravely.
"No, I won't," he said. "Father wouldn't like me to be a coward. I'll try to get over the stones all alone—some day."
[CHAPTER III.]
"DEAR AUNT."
"Though man a thinking being is defined,
Few use the grand prerogative of mind;
How few think justly of the thinking few!
How many never think, who think they do!
Opinion, therefore—such our mental dearth—
Depends on mere locality or birth."
JANE TAYLOR.
"EVELYN!"
"Yes, aunt."
"Where are you going?"
"Into the garden."