"As I said before, I will do my best," said Mr. Wycherly, but he gave no promise.
And now as he sat in his dusty dining-room—Mrs. Griffin's ministrations were confined to "the bits" and did not extend to the furniture—on this, the first evening in their new home, he heard the scampering feet over his head as the boys got ready for bed, and the minister's words came back to him. "He's right," he thought to himself, "it's what she would have wished," and spent as he was he went upstairs.
Their room was in terrible confusion, for both had begun to unpack, and got tired of it. Thus, garments were scattered on every chair and most of the floor. There were plenty of places to put things; all the deep old "presses" and wardrobes had come from Remote, and the house abounded in splendid cupboards; but so far nobody ever put anything away, and Mr. Wycherly wondered painfully how it was that Remote had always been such an orderly house.
He sat down on Edmund's bed. "Boys," he said, "you used always to read with Miss Esperance, didn't you?"
"Yes, Guardie," Montagu answered; then, instantly understanding, he added gently: "Would you like us to do it with you?"
"I should," said Mr. Wycherly gratefully; "we'll each read part of the Bible every day, and I'd like to begin now. Can you find your Bibles?"
This entailed much searching and more strewing of garments, but finally the school Bibles were unearthed.
"Let's begin at the very beginning," Edmund suggested, "then it'll take us years and years only doing it in the holidays."
"Oh, but we'll read a good bit at a time," said Montagu, who disliked niggardly methods where books were concerned. "It won't take so long really."
"Well, anyway, Guardie, we can miss the 'begats,' can't we? and the 'did evils in the sight,'" Edmund said beseechingly.