Little Glo’s last words awoke the better spirit of the boy.
He sobbed and sighed, and then set himself to comfort the little lady.
“She means it for your good. Even granny says you ought to go to school. And so I know it must be all right for you to go. And you will come back again, and be able to tell me lots of things.”
“Oh, yes, indeed; I will come back for the Christmas holidays, you know. And oh! David Lindsay, every time I write to dee-ar Marcel I will send a message to you. And will you send one back to me, too?”
“If the master will let me.”
“Why, of course he will let you! Dee-ar Marcel is too tender-hearted to refuse. Let me tell you something. Aunt Grip, ever since she has been here, has been trying to prevent me from coming out here and playing with you, and if it had not been for dee-ar Marcel, she would have prevented me; but Marcel would not let me be grieved that much.”
The twilight was fading so fast that the child looked up to the sky in alarm, exclaiming:
“Oh! I must go! I must go! Good-by, dee-ar David Lindsay!”
“I must walk with you up to the house. It is too dark for you to go by yourself,” said the boy, rising to accompany her.
He helped her over the rough stones of the broken sea-wall, and then walked with her until they reached the porch and found Colonel de Crespigney and Miss Agrippina sitting out there to enjoy the delicious coolness of the August evening.