"Why don't you speak?" said Hortense, "instead of looking so woebegone."
"You'll only make fun of me," said Highboy in a tearful voice.
"No, I won't," Hortense replied, "not if you'll try to look and talk a bit cheerful."
"That's easy to say," said Highboy, "but you don't have to stay in this room day and night with nobody to talk to. It gets on my nerves."
"I'll talk to you," said Hortense, "but you should cultivate a cheerful disposition. I like bright people."
"Then you'd better talk with my brother, Lowboy," said Highboy tartly. "He's always cheery. Nothing depresses me so much as people who are always cheerful. Tiresome, I say."
"You could learn much from your brother," said Hortense severely. "Why don't you go down and see him now? I'm sure it would do you good."
Highboy shivered.
"It's so cold and dark in the hall," he said. "I almost never dare go except on bright warm nights in summer. Of course I daren't go in the daytime."
"No, I suppose not," said Hortense. "However, I'll go with you, you are afraid. Grandmother has gone to bed, I think, and there will be a little fire left on the hearth."