“If you do not mind the trouble!”
“I will come and help,” said Davie.
“You mustn’t leave lady Arctura. I am not sure if I can get it up the stair; I am afraid it is too long. If I cannot, we will haul it up as we did the coal.”
He went, and the cousins sat down to wait his return. It was a cold evening, but Arctura was well wrapt up, and Davie was hardy. They sat at the foot of the chimney-stack, and began to talk.
“It is such a long time since you told me anything, Arkie!” said the boy.
“You do not need me now to tell you anything: you have Mr. Grant! You like him much better than ever you did me!”
“You see,” said Davie, thoughtfully, and making no defence against her half-reproach, “he began by making me afraid of him—not that he meant to do it, I think! he only meant that I should do what he told me: I was never afraid of you, Arkie!”
“I was much crosser to you than Mr. Grant, I am sure!”
“Mr. Grant is never cross to me; and if ever you were, I’ve forgotten it, Arkie. I only remember that I was not good to you. I am sorry for it now when I lie awake in bed; but I say to myself you forgive me, and go to sleep.”
“What makes you think I forgive you, Davie?”