"Well! Stephen," said Amy, "I really will try; but it is very hard sometimes."
"Ah! yes," replied Stephen, "we all have something hard, Miss Amy; young or old, there is always something. 'Twas hard for me when the master went away and left the old house to itself, as you may say; and there are some things that are hard now."
"What things?" asked Amy, as she almost stopped her donkey, and looked eagerly into the old steward's face. "I thought you never would be unhappy again when uncle Harrington came back."
"'Tis he, and 'tisn't he, that's come," replied Stephen. "There's a change; but 'twas the foolishness of an old man's heart to think that it wouldn't be so."
"But what is changed?" said Amy,
"Everything!" exclaimed Stephen; "the master, and madam, and the young ladies, and all; only Mrs Bridget isn't a bit different."
"Oh, but Stephen, you know my cousins were so young when they went away—of course they are altered."
"To be sure, Miss Amy, I wasn't so foolish as not to expect that; but I did hope that the young ladies wouldn't be above coming to see one, and talking a bit; and that the young gentleman (God bless him and keep him, for he's the only one) would have been here, and that, perhaps, they would have wanted a little teaching about the ponies. I had two of the little Welsh ones brought in from the hills on purpose, and took a pleasure in training them, but no one comes near me to look at them."
"If you would only mention it," said Amy, "I am sure my cousins would be delighted."
"No," replied Stephen, "it's not in my way to put myself forward so, for those who don't care to ask after me. If they had come down to the cottage, and said a word to me or little Nelly, and then noticed that the ponies were about there (for I keep them in the field), 'twould have been all very well, and natural like; but I shall say nothing about it now; only if master should inquire after any, he can have them. And master Frank, too—'twill never be like the old times till there is a young gentleman about the place."