'It seems always half dark, said the boy, dreamily, 'and yet there's no curfew.'
'They have been so kind as not to ring the bells,' said Wilmet.
'Not ring the bells!' repeated Lance, in a feeble voice of amazement.
'No, nor play the organ,' said Wilmet; 'you have had to be so quiet, you know.'
'No organ! and for me!' repeated Lance, impressed almost as if the 'unchanging sun his daily course' had 'refused to run;' but it rather frightened him, for he added, 'Am I very ill, then?'
'Not now, I hope,' said Wilmet, tenderly, and possessing herself of his wrist; 'you are so much better to-night.'
He looked wistfully into her face. 'What's the matter with me?' he said. 'What does make my head go on in this dreadful way?'
'Dear Lance! It was that running in the hot sun.'
'Oh!' (a sort of sigh of discovery) 'I hope he had the verses.'
'Yes, indeed you gave them.'