"That is right," said Mrs. Dashwood. "I am sure you will be a clever horseman, for your papa was when he was a boy."
"And so he is now, aunt. He has a beautiful horse, and he looks splendid on it when he goes off to ride," cried Mervyn, smiling brightly at the recollection; "I used to think he looked grander than any of the other officers."
"Poor little man," said his aunt gently, as she smoothed back the hair from his brow. "You are very fond of your papa, Mervyn, and do you know, I think you will be like him when you grow big and strong."
"I want to be like him in every way," said Mervyn, "and I mean to be an officer when I grow up."
"And go away to that nasty, hot India," cried Bunny; "oh, I'd be so lonely if you went away again—please don't, Mervyn, please don't."
"What is Mervyn not to do, my little woman?" asked Mr. Dashwood, who entered the room at this moment.
"He's not to go back to India again, because I should be so lonely without him," cried Bunny catching hold of her papa's hand and laying her little cheek against it; "you won't let him go, papa, will you, dear?"
"No, indeed, I couldn't think of such a thing. But I am sure he won't want to go when he hears that his papa is coming home for Christmas; eh, my boy?"
"That is good news, uncle," cried Mervyn joyfully; "I never thought he would come so soon. Not much fear of my wanting to go to India when he comes home."
"So I thought," said Mr. Dashwood. "And now, children, when are we to have our first ride?"