“I know, of course, there must be good to the children, but I should think it would be decidedly unpleasant for you. Muddy Lane cannot be a nice place at any time, and now that the warm weather is coming—”
“You don’t suppose Violet is one of the people who is afraid of a little dust, or bad odours, and all that, do you?” asked Frank.
“She rather likes it—self-denial and all that,” said Jem. “And as for Davie—”
“Nonsense, Jem! Self-denial indeed! There is very little of that,” said David. “You know better than that, if Frank does not.”
“And old Caldwell, of all people in the world,” said Philip, laughing; “I did not suppose he could speak to any one younger than fifty—except Davie. What can he have to say to children, I wonder?”
“Oh, he has enough to say. You ought to hear him,” said Jem.
“Thank you. I’ll come and hear him—to-morrow, perhaps.”
“Mr Caldwell did not like the new hymn-book at first,” said Jessie. “But the children like them, and Letty teaches them to sing, and it is very nice. I hope we can go to-morrow.”
“I hope so,” said Mr Philip.
“But you don’t care about such things, do you?” asked Jessie.