George’s face was troubled, as he examined the facts, which had hitherto escaped his attention, that there was a whole world of consequences on the other side of the wall, and that a missile which did not prove its existence against either the wall or a crock had not necessarily ceased to exist. Edwin watched the face with a new joy, as though looking at some wonder of nature under a microscope. It seemed to him that he now saw vividly why children were interesting.
“I can’t see any windows from here,” said George, in defence.
“If you climb up here you’ll see them all right.”
“Yes, but I can’t climb up. I’ve tried to, a lot of times. Even when I stood on my toes on this stump I could only just reach to put the crocks on the top.”
“What did you want to get on the wall for?”
“I wanted to see that swing of yours.”
“Well,” said Edwin, laughing, “if you could remember the swing why couldn’t you remember the windows?”
George shook his head at Edwin’s stupidity, and looked at the ground. “A swing isn’t windows,” he said. Then he glanced up with a diffident smile: “I’ve often been wanting to come and see you.”
Edwin was tremendously flattered. If he had made a conquest, the child by this frank admission had made a greater.
“Then why didn’t you come?”