"I think it will be a good thing when you send him to school. You will find that when he comes back in the holidays, he will love every stick and stone in the place."
Monica smiled a little.
"Aunt Dannie has been depressing me to-day. She says Chuckles hates coming the round of the farm with me. I always like him to be with me in the afternoon."
"I think," said Sidney slowly, "I should let him consider that a treat, not an obligation. Send him to the Rectory some afternoons for a change."
"I will," said Monica firmly. "I am coming to the conclusion that I am too old a woman to have the care of a little child. He wants someone brighter and younger."
"He is a very fortunate little boy, Monnie, and he has a young bright governess. What else does he want? Good-bye. Don't torture your old head with your delinquencies as an aunt. You are all that you ought to be. Good-bye till to-night."
She waved her hand as she parted from her friend, and went her way, softly singing to herself Longfellow's lines:
"Ah! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more?
We should dread the desert behind us
Worse than the dark before.
"What the leaves are to the forest,
With light and air for food,
Ere their sweet and tender juices
Have been hardened into wood.
"That to the world are children,
Through them it feels the glow
Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below."
[CHAPTER XIV]
A DIFFICULT TIME