“Oh, but—” began Annie, and there she came to a sudden stop.
“Is he likely soon to be a carter boy?” asked Miss Fosbrook.
“No, Ma’am; he is but ten years old, and they don’t often take them on under twelve; but he is a good boy to his mother, and a terrible one for leasing.”
Miss Fosbrook was obliged to have it explained to her that “leasing” meant gleaning; and she saw the grand pile of small neat bundles of wheat put out to dry on the sunny side of the house.
“O Davie!” cried Annie, as soon as they were outside the gate, “sha’n’t we get the pig for Hannah?”
“It is my money, not yours; I shall do what I please with it,” said David, rather crossly.
Miss Fosbrook pulled Annie back, and desired her to let David alone; herself wondering what would be the effect of what he had seen.
He had been eager to do good to Hannah when no desire of his own stood in the way; but a formed wish had arisen in his mind, and he loved himself better than Hannah. Christabel dreaded the clearing-up of the secret of the post-office order, lest he should be proved to love himself more than right and justice.
There were not many letters from the absent pair of sisters; they seemed to be much too busy and happy to write, and appeared to be “seeing everything,” and to be only just able to put down the names of the wonders. The chief of all, however, was that kind Mrs. Penrose had actually taken them to Portsmouth for a couple of nights, to see the Ramilies, in which she was going to remain till it sailed. They had sat in the Admiral’s cabin, and had slept upon “dear little sofas,” where they wished they always slept; they had been in Papa’s cabin, which was half filled up with a great gun, that can only be fired out at the window (scratched out, and “port-hole” put in.)
“Oh, how delightful! I wish I had a big gun in my room!” cried Johnnie.