‘I’m not’—Sophy had begun, but the words turned into ‘Am I?’
‘I think you are,’ and with the sweetest of tearful smiles, she put an arm round the no longer resisting Sophy, and laying her cheek against the little brother’s, she kissed first one and then the other.
‘I can’t think why you are so,’ said Sophy, still struggling against the undeserved love, though far more feebly. ‘I shall never deserve it.’
‘See if you don’t, when we pull together instead of contrary ways.’
‘But,’ cried Sophy, with a sudden start from her, as if remembering a mortal offence, ‘you drained the pond!’
‘I own I earnestly wished it to be drained; but had you any reason for regretting it, my dear?’
‘Ah! you did not know,’ said Sophy. ‘He and I used to be always there.’
‘He—?’
‘Why, will you make me say it?’ cried Sophy. ‘Edmund! I mean Edmund! We always called it his pond. He made the little quay for his boats—he used to catch the minnows there. I could go and stand by it, and think he was coming out to play; and now you have had it dried up, and his dear little minnows are all dead,’ and she burst into a passion of tears, that made Maurice cry till Albinia hastily carried him off and returned.
‘My dear, I am sorry it seemed so unkind. I do not think we could have let the pond stay, for it was making the house unhealthy; but if we had talked over it together, it need not have appeared so very cruel and spiteful.’