Wally stared at her.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you laugh again!”
“Not laugh!” Norah echoed. “Why, it wouldn’t be fair to Jim if we didn’t. We keep him as near us as we can—talk about him, and about all the old, happy times. We did have such awfully good times together, didn’t we? We’re never going to get far away from him.”
The boy gave a great sigh.
“I’ve been getting a long way from everything,” he said. “Since—since it happened I couldn’t let myself think: it was just as if I were going mad. The only thing I’ve wanted to do was to fight, and I’ve had that.”
“He looks as if his mind were more tired than his body,” David Linton said that evening. “One can see that he has just been torturing himself with all sorts of useless thoughts. You’ll have to take him in hand, Norah. Put the other work aside for a while and go out with him—ride as much as you can. It won’t do you any harm, either.”
“We never thought old Wally would be one of the Tired People,” Norah said musingly.
“No, indeed. And I think there has been no one more utterly tired. It won’t do, Norah: the boy will be ill if we don’t look after him.”
“We’ve just got to make him feel how much we want him,” Norah said.
“Yes. And we have to teach him to think happily about Jim—not to fight it all the time. Fighting won’t make it any better,” said David Linton, with a sigh.