“I ought to care, ought I not?”
“Yes; but you ought not just to make believe care.”
Mr Philip laughed a little.
“There is no make believe about it. I shall like to go to-morrow very much.”
They were all away from the table by this time, and Frank sat down with David on the window seat. He put his arm round his shoulder, boyish fashion, and laid his head down upon it.
“Is it military duty you are doing, Davie, down in Muddy Lane?” said he, softly.
All the talk that had been going on had put David out a good deal, and he did not answer for a minute. It seemed to him that a great deal had been made of a little matter, and he was not well pleased.
“Don’t you remember about the ‘armour,’” said Frank.
“Don’t Frank?” said David. It hurt him to think that Frank should make a jest of that.
“Indeed I am not jesting, Davie. That is one way of fighting the good fight—is it not? And I want to have a good long talk about it again.”