“I did not know that ducks had particular hours for being fed,” thought the boy, as he cut into the loaf, and then hacked off two slices instead of one, the two men-servants standing respectfully back and looking on, both being too well-trained to smile, as Frank thrust one slice into his pocket and offered the other to Andrew. “Oh, I don’t want it,” he said impatiently. “Better take it,” cried Frank. “I shan’t give you any of mine.”
Andrew hesitated for a moment, and then snatched a handkerchief from his pocket, wrapped the slice in it, and thrust the handkerchief back.
“Perhaps I had better take one too,” he said aloud; and then to his companion as they went out: “Makes one look so ridiculous and childish before the servants. They’ll go chattering about it all over the place.”
“Let them,” said Frank coolly. “I don’t see anything to be ashamed of.”
“No,” said Andrew, with something like a sneer, “you don’t; but you will some day. There, let’s make haste.”
It did not strike the lad that his companion’s manner was peculiar, only that he felt it to be rather an undignified proceeding; but he said nothing, and accommodating his stride to Andrew’s long one, they crossed the courtyard, went out into the Park, and came in sight of the water glittering in the sun.
“There’s a good place,” said Frank. “Plenty of ducks close in.”
“Oh, there’s a better place round on the other side,” said Andrew hastily. “Let’s go there.”
“Anywhere you like,” said Frank, “so long as we’re out here on the fresh grass again. What a treat it is to be among the green trees!”
“Much better than the country, eh?”