“Indeed!”
“You’re a decent little fellow.”
Tony blinked.
“I’ve been bothering about this a long time.”
“Never thought you bothered about anything. You’re such a quiet old chap, Si. But hurry up! Do! There’s a shrew waltzing along the road, and I’m getting impatient. Do be quick; I can’t go marching by your side in this procession-like fashion for ever and a day, now can I?”
“Well,” began Simon, which told of an ache at his heart, “Master Harry’s coming home. He’s been away for years and years. He was one of the liveliest lads you’d meet in a day’s march. But he had one big fault. When he wasn’t romping he was learning lessons. And how those lessons did spoil him, they took all the fun out of him. Master says they put sense into his head, but what does anyone want with sense, answer me that? and you know it isn’t proper for a lively lad to be thoughtful. Well, as I was saying, he was a fine sturdy chap was Master Harry—that’s years before you were born, nipper.”
“Humph!” said Tony.
“Well, now he is coming home, at least he has written a letter to say so. He says that he has grown rich, and has been to foreign places, and is bringing a horse and a dog—you hear that Tony, a horse and a dog.”
Simon said this so seriously that Tony looked up.