“You know,” said Ian, “I think I ought to be leaving you soon. I am ever so much better than I was and it would be well for me to be away.”
“Why,” said Audry, “are you not comfortable here?”
“Of course I am comfortable,” he said, “but I cannot stay here forever, it would not be fair to you. Besides it is time that I was doing my work in the world.”
“But it would be terribly risky,” said Audry, “and after the narrow escape you had, I think you might consider you had done your share.”
“No, because I feel that I have something so valuable for people, that it is worth any risk.”
“But look how you have suffered and you will bring the same suffering to others; in fact you hesitated about telling us.”
“But that was because you are children, and somehow I do not feel that a child is called upon to undertake such great responsibilities.”
“I do not see why a child should not judge,” said Aline; “it is all so simple and beautiful. If it is worth dying for, people should be glad to have it, whatever the suffering. I think I feel ready to die like poor George Wishart. So if your going helps other people, even if it makes us very sad you must go. When do you think you ought to start?”
“I have a definite errand to undertake. I have never told you about it, but I am acting as a special messenger with some important papers, and I have been thinking it over and have come to the conclusion that I should be leaving here in a week at most, but less if possible.”
“What, so soon?” exclaimed both the children at once.