“No, I am not; but I should like to go—to the Red River, perhaps. It would be a fine trip for Davie in his vacation, too, and its cost would be little—comparatively.”
“Davie does not expect a vacation—or only a week or two.”
“Davie is quite a steady old gentleman,” said Philip.
Mrs Inglis smiled.
“I don’t suppose you mean that quite as a compliment to my boy. I am very glad it is true, nevertheless.”
“You don’t suppose I would venture to say anything not complimentary to your boy to you, do you? Or that I would wish to say it to any one? But he does take life so seriously. He is so dreadfully in earnest. One would think that Davie was years and years older than I am.”
“Yes, in some things.”
“But, Aunt Mary, such precocious sobriety and wisdom are unnatural and unwholesome. Davie is too wise and grave for his years.”
“He is not too wise to do very foolish things sometimes; and he is the merriest among the children at home, though we don’t hear his voice quite so often as Jem’s. And you must remember that Davie’s experience has been very different from yours.”
“Yes, Aunt Mary, I know. Frank has told me how happy you all were, and how Davie was always so much with his father. It must have been very terrible for you all.”