“Go on with those problems, uncle, unless you want me to do anything else.”
“I do,” said the old man, smiling. “I want you to leave your books to-day—for a few days, I should say, till your face comes round again—I mean less round, boy,” he added, laughing. “Have a rest. Go and ramble along the cliffs. Take the little glass and watch the birds till evening, and then you can fish.”
Aleck jumped at the proposal, for the thought of books and writing had brought on suggestions of headache and weariness; and soon after breakfast he went up to his uncle’s study, to find him sitting looking very thoughtful, and ready to start at the boy’s entry.
“I’ve come for the spy-glass, uncle,” said Aleck.
“To be sure, yes. I forgot,” said the old man, hastily. “Take it down, my boy; and mind what you’re about—recollect you are half blind. Let’s have no walking over the cliff or into one of the gullies.”
“I’ll take care, uncle,” said the boy, smiling. “I’ll be back to dinner at two.”
The captain nodded, and Aleck was moving towards the door, when the old man rose hastily, overtook him, and grasped his hand for a moment or two.
“Just to show you that I have not forgotten yesterday, Aleck, my boy,” he said, gravely, and then he turned away.
“Who could forget yesterday?” thought the boy, as he slipped out by the side door and took the path leading round by the far edge of the cliff wall, the part which was left wild, that is, to its natural growth.
For Aleck’s intent was to avoid being observed by the old gardener, whom he had last seen at work over the celery trench upon the other side of the house.