“Well, you are better, Ralph.”
“That’s what I told father. Only a bit sore. I’m sick of being coddled up.”
“That’s because you are a boy. You are never happy unless you are in the open-air.”
“You would not be, if you were a boy,” said Ralph sharply.
“Well, I don’t know that I am, even as a girl. It’s dreadful. You know, father has given orders that I am not to go outside the walls. No walks, no rides; and my poor pony looked so reproachfully at me. Wants to go out as badly as I do. Don’t you think it’s being too particular?”
“Well, no, Min,” said Ralph thoughtfully. “While those men are about, I don’t think you ought to go out alone.”
“Now, Ralph,” said the girl, pouting, “you’re as bad as father. I declare you are not a bit like a nice, brave, merry boy now. You used to be; but ever since you’ve been at that great school you have been growing more and more serious, till you are getting to be quite an old man.”
“And quite grey,” said Ralph drily.
“It only wants that,” said the girl, with a merry laugh. “I declare that old Master Rayburn has more fun in him than you.”
“Wouldn’t say so if you had been wounded, and had him to pull the bandages about.”