Bertie flushed with pleasure, and as the children rode away together Queenie said,—
“He’s a very kind old man, isn’t he?”
“He’s very kind to me,” answered Bertie, emphatically,—“very kind indeed!”
“Is he going to adopt you?” asked the little girl, who was not always very quick to see when she gave pain by her words.
Bertie flushed painfully.
“I don’t know,” he answered, and the tears sparkled in his eyes.
“People say he will,” asserted Queenie, “unless anybody finds out who you really are. Dr. Lighton isn’t half so sure about your ever remembering for yourself as he was at first.”
“Oh, you’ll remember fast enough, never fear!” cut in Phil, whose feelings in some things were quicker than his little sister’s. “You’ll wake up some fine morning with it all as plain as a pikestaff, and meantime it won’t be half bad to be adopted by the Squire.”
Bertie said nothing. He always felt sad when his forgotten past was brought up and discussed; but he knew that Phil meant kindly, and was much obliged by his friendly words.
As they rode on over the level roads through the bright sunshine, and with the fresh breeze whistling in their ears, they all grew merry and cheerful. Bertie was delighted with his pony, Phil was as full of fun and chatter as a monkey, and Queenie, though rather inclined to be “on her high horse,” was too pleased at the prospect of the picnic to be cross to Bertie.