“Next door,” he said, quickly, and then stopped short.
“What about next door?” asked Queenie.
“I don’t know,” he answered, slowly. “I thought I did; but I didn’t.”
“I want us to be friends,” said Queenie; “would you like to be?”
“If grandpapa likes,” answered Bertie, without the animation Queenie looked for.
Yet he spoke so gently that she could not be offended, and the wistful look in his eyes touched her, she could not tell why.
“Why do you call him grandpapa?” she asked, with interest. “Do you mean the Squire?”
“Yes,” answered Bertie. “He lets me call him that. It seems more natural, somehow.”
Queenie looked at him curiously.
“You must feel very funny, don’t you? I should worry all day to remember things.”