Aleck listened quietly to the catalogue of my presents, only remarking that, if they got better each time, he wondered what they'd come to be at last; thus suggesting such a pleasant subject for speculation that I did not immediately find any occasion for further talk, but ruminated as we pursued our way for a few moments in silence.
"It must be very nice," my cousin resumed presently, "having another day for presents besides Christmas-days and birth-days. I wonder where papa and mamma will be my next birth-day."
"Whatever it is that George has made for me," I said, "you shall play with it too, Aleck. I like you to play with my things."
"You're very good about the 'Fair Alice,' I'm sure," answered my cousin. "I wish I had anything to lend you that would give you half as much pleasure. I'm afraid this—referring to the boat he was carrying—will not come to much, in spite of George's promises."
It certainly did not look encouraging, but by this time we were gaining the shingle, the fresh sea-breeze blowing in our faces seemed to quicken our steps, and the rest of our way was a race between us and Frisk until we reached the lodge.
We found old George on the watch for us, his kind cheery face all in a pleasant glow of welcome. He was ready to start directly for the Cove, he told us, when the first salutations were over. But I did not feel quite so eager, as might have been expected, having a private desire to explore the work-shop, of which I perceived the door to be open.
"May I go in now?" I asked, moving towards it.
"Ay, ay, sir," answered my old friend with a merry twinkle in his eye, which developed into a broad smile by the time we returned from our fruitless inspection of bare benches and tools; and he took to singing,—
"When she came there, the cupboard was bare."
"That Master Willie is a quotation from a celebrated poet. I reckon you're ready enough now to come on to the Cove."