A little smile crept into Mattie's eyes at this; she had suspected more than once that Pat was rather jealous of his new uncle.
'Of course,' she said, 'I know it can't be quite the same, but it might be a good deal worse; I might have had to go to India, like Rosamond's father and mother. And if you knew Uncle Ted better, you would find him awfully kind and understanding about boys.'
Pat grunted.
'He likes the others, I know,' he said gloomily.
His aunt's face grew graver again. This touch of jealousy in Pat made her anxious about him.
'It is such a pity,' she said, 'that you get these ideas into your head—of people not liking you or liking the others better, and uncomfortable fancies of that kind.'
'They are not fancies,' said Pat; 'they are true.'
'Well, if they are true, make them not true,' was the reply. 'Try to be a little brighter and pleasanter to other people, especially to your own people, and see if that doesn't make a difference. Just try, for my sake, and as far as Rosamond is concerned I am sure you won't find the trying difficult.'
Pat did not speak. He stood there looking before him gravely. But the hard gloomy expression had gone, and after a while he said quietly,
'I will try, but, auntie— I'm not made right, somehow— I don't care for their animals and things like that, and I don't care much for games, and I hate ferreting!'