"I am not sure about it; and yet the boy is at home in the saddle, and has a firm seat. I'll speak to Rickson. Aleck's been looking pale of late, and I think more rides than he can get when there's only the pony between the two boys, would do him good."
"Papa," I said, with quivering lip and reproachful voice, "you've never let me ride the gray. It's always Aleck now—he gets everything, it doesn't seem to matter about me."
My father gave one quick glance of surprise and consternation at my mother, and then turned to me:—
"Willie! my own little Willie!" he said, pausing as if for an explanation, and putting out his hand in a manner that meant I was to come to his side, which I did rather slowly.
"I've so often asked you to let me ride the gray, papa, and you've never allowed it, and now you're going to let Aleck. I don't want to go to Stavemoor—Aleck may have the pony; I wish I had said so at first; I don't want to ride the pony, and have him on the gray." And thereupon, almost frightened by the evident distress my sentiments had occasioned, I burst into a passionate fit of crying, which permitted only a few more broken words to the effect that I wished Aleck had never come to Braycombe; I hated his being there; and that my parents were very unkind to care for him more than they did for me.
My father held me there at his side whilst I sobbed and cried as if some tremendous calamity had overtaken me. I knew without looking up, which I was ashamed to do, that his eyes were resting upon me with an expression of sad surprise; and the silence became perfectly unbearable. He spoke at last:—
"My poor little Willie," he said, "what sad feelings you have allowed to creep into your heart! how unhappy they will make you! You have said very wrong words, my child, and I cannot tell you how much pain you have caused to me and your mamma. I hope that you will be very sorry by-and-by; but you know, Willie, being sorry will not undo your fault, nor take away the envious feelings which you have allowed to spring up within you; and unless such feelings as these are conquered you will be an unhappy little boy, and grow up to be an unhappy man. Willie," he added, after another pause only interrupted by my struggling sobs at longer intervals than at first, "you know, my child, whose strength you will need to help you in the battle: you are but a weak little boy, and cannot help yourself; you must pray for the help of God's Holy Spirit, or else you will never conquer these wrong feelings."
I hung my head, and remained silent.
"I trust Aleck knows nothing of all this," resumed my father. "We have promised to care for him as though he belonged to us. I will not allow him to feel that he is disliked by the boy who promised to love him."
"No, papa," I put in, for my temper had well-nigh expended itself; "I do like him still—rather—only not always. I like him very much sometimes: I think now I'm very glad he came—only I don't like his having things that I mayn't have."