“Very good,” said Margaret, raising her eyes, “and very kind of you; but I think I know why you’re so very good. You know my cousin, Edgar Earnshaw, too?”
“Yes; I know him very well,” said Harry.
“He must be very good, since everybody is so kind that knows him; and fancy, I don’t know him!” said Margaret. “Charles and he are friends, but Sibby and I have only seen him once. We have scarcely a right to all the kind things that are done for his sake.”
“Oh, it isn’t for his sake,” cried Harry. “I like him very much; but there are other fellows as good as he is. I wouldn’t have you make a hero of Edgar; he is odd sometimes, as well as other folks.”
“Tell me something about him; I don’t know him, except what he did for Granny,” said Margaret. “It’s strange that, though I am his relative, you should know him so much better. Will you tell me? I would like to know.”
“Oh, there’s nothing very wonderful to tell,” said Harry, somewhat disgusted; “he’s well enough, and nice enough, but he has his faults. You must not think that I came for his sake. I came because I thought you would feel a little lonely, and might be pleased to have some one to talk to. Forgive me if I was presumptuous.”
“Presumptuous! no,” said Margaret, with a smile. “You were quite right. Would you like a cup of tea? it is just about the time. Sibby, go ben and tell Mrs. Sims we will have some tea.”
“She is very like you,” said Harry, taking this subject, which he felt would be agreeable, as a new way of reaching the young mother’s heart.
“So they tell me,” said Margaret. “She is like what I can mind of myself, but gentler, and far more good. For, you see, there were always two of us, Charlie and me.”
“You have always been inseparable?”