“It was near the town. We lived in rather a small house, that had a garden. I suppose I shall never see it again. Well, I don’t much mind.”
“Where shall you spend the holidays?”
“At my uncle’s in London; he has ever so many children, and I dare say they will not want me.”
“I think that is so strange of you, Edgar,” said Arthur. “You seem always to think nobody wants you, and that makes you disagreeable, and then they do not. Now, I don’t see why they should not want you, as well as any one else.”
“Well, I can’t help thinking what is true,” said Edgar.
“Go on telling me about your father,” said Arthur; “I like hearing of him.”
“I don’t think I have much to tell,” said Edgar, “except that it was very happy when he was at home; and, oh, so miserable ever since! And I think he might have stayed.”
“That is what I thought about mamma. But I am quite sure they knew best; indeed I’m certain, Edgar, they would only do it for the best.”
They stopped talking for a little while, and sat still and silent—very still it was, and very long it lasted for two boys of their age; but Edgar’s short breathing and weakness had often enforced these times of rest, and Arthur’s grave, earnest face showed him to be deeply thinking. They made a great contrast as they sat together in the woody shade, where the woodbine-scented breeze was fanning softly, and the quivering light fell scatteringly. There was a weary, restless look brooding over Edgar’s dark eyes, and his face was pale and worn-looking. Arthur’s cheeks were ruddy and round, and his thick brown hair clustering on his sunburnt forehead; but with all the energy and liveliness that could be seen on his face, a peaceful, restful look could be noticed there too.
“This walk to-day reminds me of long ago,” said Edgar, after a while. “We used to walk, papa and I. Sometimes we set off directly after breakfast, and took some luncheon with us, and then father used to fish, and it was such fun when he caught some; and then we had luncheon, and sometimes father went to sleep for a little, and sometimes he would tell me stories; and talk, oh, so nicely!”