"Anything wrong?"
"No! No! Nothing. It was only—"
"What?"
Again Max laughed nervously, but his fingers tightened.
"Only this—I have wanted to hear you say that I am your friend—your boy, Max—as I was yesterday and the day before and the day before. Say it! Say it!" His eyes besought Blake's.
"What! Tell you you are yourself?"
He nodded quickly and seriously.
The other looked into his face, and for some unaccountable reason his amusement died away.
"What a child it is!" he said kindly; and, putting his hands upon the boy's shoulders, he shook him gently. "Who has been putting notions into your head? Whoever it is, just refer him to me; I'll deal with him."
It was Max's turn to laugh. "Ah, but I am better now! I am quite all right now! It was only for the moment!" He made a little sound, half shy, half relieved. "It was, I suppose, as you expected; I tired myself with carrying up these things, and then I still more tired myself with trying to block in my picture, and then—"