At another time Sydney would have been immensely interested in the story, but to-day somehow she could not care even to see the place where Madam Courtenay caught the first glimpse of the scarlet mantled horsemen, riding to her succour only just in time.
She could not put herself to-day into the place of the cavalier lady and rejoice with her; she could only feel herself, Sydney Lisle, behaving in a horrid, stiff, unkind way to the brother Hugh, who kept looking at her with those troubled, questioning eyes.
Miss Osric was the only member of the party who really enjoyed Mr. Seaton’s explanations, for little Pauly thought them dull to the last degree. He wanted to know several things, and no one would attend to his shrill questions. Sydney was looking where Mr. Seaton pointed, with unseeing eyes, and his father took no notice of various impatient tugs at his hand. Pauly wanted dreadfully to know why the sky had gone away again, instead of being quite near as he had expected, and whether mother and the angels would hear him if he were to call up to them very loudly, now this minute, and whether a big man, who was big enough to lean over the stone parapet of the tower which his own head barely reached, could see “In Memory of Rose” on the white marble cross in the churchyard down below.
Hugh, to pacify him, looked over, and pronounced that he could see “no end of crosses.”
But this by no means satisfied Pauly. Hugh must see that special grave where Daddy took him every Sunday, after service.
“Tell me where to look,” Hugh said; “but you keep still, young man, if you please. Don’t you go trying to lean over!”
He stared down. “Is your cross a tall one, near a tree?” he asked presently. Pauly gave a bound of delight.
“Yes, that’s where ‘In memorwy of Wose’ is. Do you see the lovely holly on the grave? I stuck lots in the tin, I did weally, and my fingers was all bleedy after. I didn’t mind. Boys don’t mind being bleedy. ’Spect that big girl that you keep on looking at would mind. Girls cwy when they’re bleedy, don’t they? Do you cwy? I s’pose not,’cause you’re a big man. Did you see my lovely holly? No, you won’t see where you are. Oh, look! You can see my lovely holly this side of the tower as well.”
“I say—stand still!” Hugh said sharply, turning his head round. Pauly, in a state of wild excitement, was climbing up the three-foot parapet as nimbly as a cat. “Get down!” Hugh shouted, springing to his feet, and darting over to the child. He spoke too late.
Pauly had reached the top, and was kneeling on it, peering down upon his “lovely holly.” “Oh, I can see it! I can see my holly!” he screamed joyfully, clinging and laughing.