A TALK UNDER THE WALNUT TREE
IT was the Sunday afternoon following that eventful Friday. The day was fair and bright, one of those last sweet days of summer, in which we rejoice with trembling, knowing that soon rough winds and sweeping rains will spoil the beauty of leaves and flowers, and the year's brightest hours be spent.
Under the walnut tree, on the lawn, a happy party was grouped. The central figure of the group was Percy, who lay at his ease on a low couch. The doctor still enjoined rest for his injured limb; but Percy was sufficiently free from pain and discomfort to enjoy fully the privileges and immunities of an invalid. On the grass, before his couch, sat the two children, ready, like willing slaves, to obey his least command. Beryl was even submitting meekly to having her long brown tresses tossed to and fro by Percy's fingers, and enduring with good humour the occasional sharp pull by which he tried her patience. Miss Burton sat on a chair close by, listening, and occasionally joining in the talk that was going on between the other three.
From the library window, unseen by them, Mr. Hollys was watching the little group so happily settled on the lawn. The children's bright, animated faces, and the equally bright and scarcely less childlike face of their little governess were pleasant to look upon. The sound of their voices, with an occasional ripple of childish laughter, came to his ears through the open window; but they were too far off for him to hear what they said. Mr. Hollys was strongly inclined to join the party; but the fear that his presence would be felt by them as a restraint for some time kept him away.
At last, however, when their talk appeared to become more earnest and absorbing, and the rapt look with which Beryl was regarding Miss Burton showed that her governess's words were of intense interest to her, curiosity got the better of other feelings, and he stepped out of the window and advanced towards the group.
It was as he had feared. His appearance at once put an end to the talk. Mr. Hollys felt almost vexed that Beryl left the others, and came running to meet him.
"You should not have disturbed yourself, child," he said, taking her hand to lead her back to the tree; "you were looking so delightfully cool and comfortable, resting there in the shade, that I thought I should like to join you."
"Oh yes, do, papa," cried Beryl, "that will be so pleasant. We have been having such a nice talk."
"Why, how grave you all look!" exclaimed Mr. Hollys, as he threw himself down on the grass beside little Coral. "What serious subject have you been discussing? I believe Miss Burton has been giving you a sermon."
"No, papa, but she has been telling us about her father, who was very good," said Beryl softly.