"No, dear," replied Mrs. Cook: "I am not angry: only very, very sorry; and I am trying to think what we can do to make you happy when we go away. I shall be very sorry if all our pleasant time here only makes you unhappier after you go home. You were very contented before we came here."
"I don't think I was very, mamma," said Arthur, sadly. "I always wanted a boy or a girl; and none of the boys and girls in New York cared any thing about me,—only my things; but Nelly is just like my own sister,—at least I guess that's the way sisters are,—and Rob is just like my brother. Mamma, I can't go away! I don't see why you can't leave me. You and papa would come back in the spring. Oh, mamma, let me! let me!" And poor Arthur began to cry.
Mrs. Cook put her arms around him, and laid her face down close to his.
"My darling child!" she said, "haven't papa and I done every thing we possibly could to make you happy always?"
"Yes," sobbed Arthur; "and that's why I think you might leave me here."
"Dear boy, you don't seem to think," said his mother, "how lonely papa and I would be without you."
"Oh, mamma, would you, really? How could you be? I'm only a bother: I can't go round with you or any thing. I think you'd have a great deal better time without me. Perhaps I'd get so I could walk if I stayed here all winter. You know one doctor said I ought to stay a whole year."
"Arthur, dear," said Mrs. Cook, earnestly, "do not talk any more about this now. Promise mamma that you will try not to think about it either; and I promise you I will talk to papa and see what he thinks can be done. All we want in this world is to make you happy, and do what is best for you."
"Will you ask him to let me stay?" cried Arthur.
"I will tell him how you feel about being separated from Nelly and Rob," replied his mother; "and I think we can arrange in some way."