"Do you think our being afraid of grandpapa and fancying we don't love him is only a top feeling after all?" I said.
"Yes," said Tib, "I do. Anyway, I'm going to love him now. Perhaps, if he has so many to love him now—auntie and Regina, and you and me—all at once, the lot of it will make up for his having had so little all these years. Things come like that sometimes, I suppose."
While we were talking—we took a good while to dress, for we wanted to be very neat to go to the Rectory—there came a tap at the door, and in walked Gerald, as cool as a cucumber.
"I'm ready," he said, and indeed one could see by the scrubby look of his cheeks that he had had an extra amount of soap. "I've got my best suit on to go to the Rectory."
"But, Gerald," said Tib, "don't you want to hear all about how it's all been. Gussie and I can tell you," for I forgot to say that Mrs. Munt had told us we had better explain a little to him. "Don't you want to know why the Old House that we called the palace was shut up, and how it comes to be auntie's, and how she is our auntie, and—"
"No," interrupted Gerald. "I don't want to know anything. It puzzles me. I'm only seven years old."
We looked at him in astonishment. Then we fairly burst out laughing.
"I never saw such a boy," said Tib. "You're so lazy, Gerald, you won't even let your mind work enough to understand about your own family."
"I do understand all I need," said Gerald; "I understand that we've got an auntie, and that she's very kind, and that Regina is a cousin, and she's very nice too—so nice that I'm still going to think she's a fairy. That's what I've settled, and I think it's quite enough when I'm only seven."
And from that day to this I have never heard him express any curiosity or make any inquiries as to all that had happened. I fancy Gerald will get through life comfortably—though to do him justice he is working very well at school, and doesn't seem to be considered lazy at all.