"I didn't mean to be rough," I said.
"Rough?" he asked. "When were you rough, Bertie?"
"About the water."
"Oh," he said, putting his hand upon my shoulder. "I never thought of it, old fellow," and my heart smote me for the second time that day, seeing how much he loved me.
Letitia, weary with our hard climbing, ate so little that Robin chided her, very gently, and I tried banter.
"Wake up! This is a picnic." But they did not rally, so I sprang up restlessly, crying, "It's not like our other good times at all."
"What!" said Robin, striving to be playful. "Only six slices, Bertram? This is our last holiday. Eat another, lad."
Then I understood that gloom on Sun Dial: he was going to leave us. Boylike, I had taken it for granted, I suppose, that we would go on climbing and fishing and playing cricket in Grassy Ford indefinitely. He was to go, he said, on Monday.
"News from home, Mr. Bob?"
He was silent a moment.