“It would be fun to see it, all the same,” said Evelyn. “But there, I am going for a race; my legs are quite stiff for want of running. I used to run such a lot in Tasmania on the ranch! Often and often I ran a whole mile without stopping. Good-by for the present. I suppose I may do what I like to-day.”
Evelyn rushed off into the grounds. She was running at full speed through the shrubbery on her way to a big field, which was known as the ten-acre field, on the other side of the turnstile, when she came full tilt against her uncle. He stopped, took her hand, and looked kindly at her.
“Do you know, Uncle Edward,” she said, “that I am going to school to-morrow?”
“So I hear, my dear little girl; and I hope you will be happy there.”
Evelyn made no reply. Her eyes sparkled. After a time she said slowly:
“I am glad; mother wished me to go.”
“You love your mother’s memory very much, do you not, Eve?”
“Yes,” she said; and tears came into her big, strange-looking eyes. “I love her just as much as if she were alive,” she continued—“better, I think. Whenever I am sad she seems near to me.”
“You would do anything to please her, would you not, Eve?”
“Yes,” answered the child.