“It is indeed,” returned Milly; “but I don’t feel quite sure whether you refer to the splendour of the scenery or the goodness of the tart.”
“To both,” returned the boy, inarticulately.
“Do you think you could eat any more?” asked Milly with a grave, earnest look that made Aggy giggle—for Aggy was a facile giggler!
“No, I don’t,” said Junkie. “I’m stuffed!”
“Well, then, you are at leisure to fill the cup again at the spring; so run, like a good boy, and do it.”
“How hard you are on a fellow, Cousin Milly,” grumbled the youngster, rising to do as he was bid; but the expression of his jammy face showed that he was no unwilling slave.
“How old are you, Aggy?” asked Milly when he was gone.
“Sixteen last birthday,” returned the girl.
“Ah! how I wish I was sixteen again!” said Milly, with a profound sigh, as she gazed over the rim of a tartlet she happened to be eating, at the glittering sea and the far-off horizon. She was evidently recalling some very sad and ancient memories.
“Why?” asked her companion, who exhibited a very slight tendency to laugh.