“She wouldn’t let me come to the Sunday-school,” said Arthur. “She says the girls laugh at her. So you see, sir, I can’t be useful if I would.”
“For shame, Arthur! Mr Harcourt, he did not want to be of any use, only to walk down with me.”
“Well, my dear, in my young days we liked a walk with our sweethearts on Sundays.”
“And I am going to walk with him to Oxley,” said Mysie, slipping her little hand into the old Rector’s arm and very little discomposed by his joke.
“Ay, ay, walk away, and come back and tell me what fine things they’re doing at Saint Michael’s. There is Hugh has never told me a word about Italy. When young men made the grand tour formerly their conversation was quite an enlightenment to their friends.”
“Weren’t they rather a bore, sir?” said Arthur.
“We weren’t so easily bored in those days, my dear boy, by useful information.”
“No,” said James, “those were the days to live, when each event had time to round into its proper proportion—the days of taste and leisure, when people were simple enough to be excited by a Christmas party or by the coming in of a coach.”
“But don’t you think, Jem,” said Mysie, “that they must have been rather dull to care about the coach coming. I’ve heard Arthur say he used to go at school on a wet half-holiday and watch the trains. I’m sure he wouldn’t have done it if he had had anything else to amuse him.”
“Very true,” said Arthur.