“I should think I am, indeed,” said Arthur; “why I have done that ever since I was eight.”
“You won’t lose your way?” asked his aunt anxiously.
“If I do, I shall have to find it again, you know, aunt,” said Arthur.
“You are a funny little fellow,” said Mrs. Estcourt. “Well, if you get hungry before luncheon-time, you must come and tell me.”
Arthur thought of Hector, and how pleasant it would be if his old friend would come bounding in answer to his whistle; then he looked at the sleepy white-haired creature lying on the hearth-rug.
“Aunt Daisy,” he said, “would you like me to take out that white fellow?”
“What, dear?” said Mrs. Estcourt. “Oh, I don’t know, Arthur; I think, perhaps, not just yet; not until you are more accustomed to it.”
“Very well,” said Arthur, as he went away; and he said to himself, “I would quite as soon not.”
Arthur felt, as he stood outside the hall door, as if all the world was before him, to choose where he would go. He thought he would first examine the garden, which encircled the house on all sides. A gap in the myrtle bushes led him down a narrow path into a large space, which the fruit trees and vegetables showed was the kitchen garden. He walked round, and noticed how neatly the beds were kept, and that the walks even here were stripped of weeds. Two boys who were working there, rather older than himself, eyed him curiously. Arthur wondered whether they knew who he was; but he felt inclined to be where there was no one else just then. So he left the garden, and passing out through the iron gate, he found himself on the high road, turning to walk down in the direction which they had come the night before. Presently a sign-post stood before him, one hand pointing to Stratton, and the other to Harford. Arthur followed the last name along a green, flowery lane, where the wild roses were mantling their green, and here and there an early bud was making its appearance. He walked on for some distance, until the high road was hidden by a bend in the lane, and the green trees began to arch overhead; and on each side, the road was bordered with grass and green, velvety moss; the birds were warbling soft songs in the branches, and from the wood hard by the sweet cooing of the pigeons could be heard. It was a very pleasant spot, so much so, that when Arthur threw himself down on the grass to rest, he said with a deep sigh, “Well, it might be worse; and Aunt Daisy is certainly very kind.”
“Yes, it might be worse,” he continued to himself; “and it is nice to think of by and by, when they come back. Suppose they were dead!” He shuddered at the thought. “I can quite fancy what mother will look like when she sees me again. No; I don’t believe I can, though. How will she feel, and how shall I feel? I suppose very different from what I do now; for I shall be really a man then. Oh, dear! I had better not think of that time yet. I must try and think about all the things God gives. Father said something like that. Father was very kind to me to-day. I did not know he could be so kind.”