On the weather-worn wall near there were a number of marks and names and dates; it was the measuring wall of the family. It carried his thoughts back a long, long time. It was nearly seven long years since the first marks were made: the little one, only a couple of feet off the ground, was marked “The General,”—Pip remembered Esther had to hold him there, for it was before he could walk. Then all the small steps above it—Baby, and Bunty, and Nell—such a little Nell; Judy, with a crossing out at her name and a mark lower down—he remembered finding out after he had measured her first, that she had tacked a bit of wood on to each heel of her shoes; then himself, and Meg topping them all.
The last marks were recent; they had measured merrily just before Esther went away, to see if [263] ]any one could possibly grow in such a short time. He himself was at the top now, ten inches past Meg, and Nellie and Bunty were nearly up to Meg. How nearly the new little mark that meant Essie had never risen any higher! And Judy, dear, dear little Judy, so quick growing, so eager-eyed—her mark was no longer among them.
It forced itself upon Pip that perhaps never again would he put the flat book on Meg’s bright head and crush down, ere he measured her, the fluffy hair that gave her an unlawful inch.
He turned on his heel from the wall; the mark seemed on his heart.
Some one opened a verandah door some distance away and stepped out into the garden. It was the nurse, heavy-eyed, pale-cheeked, come out for a breath of the quickening morning. She did not see the unhappy boy standing there, but went down the path towards the sun-touched river, and left the door open behind her.
Pip slipped in, on uncontrollable impulse. He stole through the quiet hall and up the staircase; he went softly down the upstairs passage—and Meg’s door was open.
She was quite alone, lying among the pillows, with her bright hair loose, her cheeks a little flushed, but her eyes open and quite natural. The next [264] ]second he was in the room kneeling by the bedside, and kissing the little hot hand on the counterpane.
“Just say you forgive me, Meg darling—darling!” he implored, the tears rolling down his cheeks.
She sat up in distress.
“Oh, go away!” she cried. “Oh, Pip, how mad of you—dear Pip, you’ll catch it!”