“And leave me by myself?”
“Nay; thou shalt go, too. Thou’lt love to see his garden and the rose-trees—it is like a very country place. He is a merry gentleman, and, oh, so kind! He is going to take me home.”
“But my father will take us home when he comes.”
“To Stratford town, I mean.”
“Away from daddy and me? Why, Nick!”
“But my mother is in Stratford town.”
Cicely was silent. “Then I think I would go, too,” she said quite softly, looking down as if there were a picture on the ground. “When one’s mother is gone there is a hurting-place that nought doth ever come into any more—excepting daddy, and—and thee. We shall miss thee, Nick, at supper-times. Thou’lt come back soon?”
“I am na coming back.”
“Not coming back?” She laid the mutton-pie down on the bench.
“No—I am na coming back”