Then there was a tumult in the room with the entrance of all the young people, and John did his best to allow himself to be ‘cheered up’ by the boys as they intended. But he was not cheered up, and was very glad to steal away with Elly to go ‘once round the garden,’ she said, before he went away. The rectory garden had witnessed so many of the pleasures of his childhood. It was big and old-fashioned, with an orchard attached, where the children had roamed at their pleasure. The girl and the boy set out talking with a little show of vivacity, but, as they strayed along the shady paths, they got more and more silent. At the bottom of the orchard, where the long stretch of the common showed under the trees, and all was silent and full of recollections, Elly suddenly thrust her hand into his.
‘Oh, Jack!’ she said, ‘how will you bear going away? Always think of me just here under the old pear-tree. Look how it is coming out like a great white tower of blossoms. I shall come here and think of you; and that will keep us near to each other. And, Jack——’
‘Yes, Elly?’
‘If you should feel lonely or anything—if you should miss home very much—oh, just think! I’ll come and do my algebra here, and think of you. It will be always something—not like your grandmother, but always something—a little bit of a home just here under the pear-tree.’
‘Elly,’ said John, ‘will you do one thing for me? There is nobody but you that I would ask.’
‘Yes, I will, Jack; half-a-dozen. Tell me what it is.’
‘There are the two old chairs by the fire. They will be sold like all the rest. I’ve money enough to buy them, but nowhere to put them. Oh, Elly!’
‘They shall stand in my own room. I’ll always keep them there,’ said Elly, with enthusiasm, ‘the two dear old chairs! Oh! yes, yes, Jack; in my own room.’
‘Thanks, awfully,’ said John.
He grasped the little, warm hand she had put into his, and they stood for a moment holding each other, like two children, by the hand.