“Poor boy?” said Jessie, as if she had been Archie’s mother; “he appears to be very frightened. What beautiful hair he has! It is just like mine.”
This was true, only Jesssie’s was longer and not bleached. Kenneth sat looking half wonderingly at Jessie, longer than politeness would dictate.
“What are you thinking about?” said Jessie.
“I was thinking,” said Kenneth, candidly, “I’d give all the world to be able to talk English in the pretty way you do.”
“Some day,” Jessie said to her governess, “we will go and see the sheep, Miss Gale. Remember that place. Put it down in your notes. We are to see a fairy knoll and a smugglers’ cave. It will be so delightful.”
“We go to London soon for the winter,” said Miss Gale, “but will come and see you, Kenneth, in spring or summer.”
“Miss Gale,” insisted the imperious Jessie, “I haven’t seen you use your tablets.”
So Miss Gale smilingly took her tablets out and noted the engagement to visit the sheep and see the fairy knoll.
“He has a flute,” said Archie, with sudden determination not to sit mute all the time; “make him play.”
And Kenneth had to play, just the same old melodies that the Scotch so dearly love; but as he played there came so sweet and sad an expression into English Jessie’s face, that Kenneth would have played for hours to please her.