'I have got something to do, Meg.'
'What?'
'Swear,' said my brother laconically.
'Oh, you poor old thing,' I exclaimed.
And then he added, rather hesitatingly, 'Or else try to stick it out and be courteous to Him about it.'
My eyes filled up suddenly with tears. My brother evidently had still that 'picture of Him in his head,' and of course one ought always to be courteous to a person with a crown on, though I've not been decently civil myself lately.
Then Ross, feeling, perhaps, that he had inadvertently been betrayed into 'talking religion' (though he apparently didn't mind trying to 'live it') said irrelevantly, 'I wonder how Charlie has got on?'
'I am longing to know what she said to him, Ross.'
'Let's hope she kissed him "good-night, darling," which is what you're going to do to me now,' said my brother, whose face whitened suddenly as the pain seized him again.
At that moment Sam came in dragging a basket chair.