George saw the boy coming. He held out his hand as usual, but his face remained set and stern. Alma was flushed and excited. Neither expressions did the child notice.
"Just going to hunt for you," he cried boyishly. "Lots of whips for you to make, Cousin George! Whole heap!"
Alma looked toward George, anxiously.
"Cousin George doesn't feel like being bothered, dear."
"Oh, but he promised!" the boy exclaimed, with a face suddenly full of miserable disappointment.
George forced a smile. "There, Harold, don't sulk! You know I don't like that. I'll make you a few now—a whole lot tomorrow."
"Thanks!" he cried boisterously, throwing his cap in the air, and then turning to run back to his precious find.
They were all soon seated in a circle, George busy whittling. Alma realized it was the last thing he wished to do. She had witnessed a display of feeling from him that she never guessed his calm nature capable of. "His friendship for Edith must indeed be very strong," she thought. She was sure he was placing his feelings under constraint at the present time. Perhaps he would like to be alone with Edith to study her, and judge for himself just how far her troubles were influencing her health.
"Harold," she exclaimed suddenly, "wouldn't you like Mus to show you some lovely deer?"
"Where?" asked Harold, quickly.