It were well to say, however, that it was a republic with sudden probabilities of dictatorship, and that a stranger coming within its circle rarely beheld much of the outspoken fashions and droll appearance of equality which, at times, seemed to disregard the deference ordinarily yielded to parental opinion. In fact, there was a comfortable sense of comradeship all around, which had its values, and with it an affection so strong that the wounds of all intellectual differences, and of the somewhat rare physical contests of the boys, were easily healed by its constancy, and by the father’s power to make each see in all the rest their specifically valuable traits. Some things which in other households are looked upon as serious were in this little noticed,—while, as to certain lapses, punishment was apt to be severe enough.
By and by Ned came out and sat down by Rose. He was the most silent of them all.
“Well,” said Rose, as he kissed her, “isn’t it beautiful, Ned? Look at the low meadows down below the elms, and the cliffs opposite, and the wild water! Don’t you love it?”
“I think I—I like it,” he replied. “How black the water looks—how wilful it looks—that was what I wanted to say. I think I like it, Rose. Sometimes I don’t like things other people like,—I mean grown-up people. I suppose that’s very stupid.”
“No,—oh, no!” She was struck with the oddness of some aspects of his mind. “Was that what troubled you yesterday, when we were all looking at that great flare of red sunset light,—you wouldn’t speak?”
“It was beautiful, but—you won’t tell, Rose?—the Bear and Rufus would laugh at me,—it was terrible!”
She looked aside at him, curious and interested. “I think I understand, and I shall never, never laugh at you, Ned. You must tell me everything.”
“Sometimes I can’t,” he said. “It is queer, but sometimes I don’t want to.” He was truthful to a fault, and was of no mind to make unconditional treaties.
“I understand that, too”; and then they fell into lighter chat of friends and cousins, until Mr. Lyndsay called “breakfast,” from the cabin-door, and they went in.
The twins were scarcely more than wide-awake enough to settle down to serious work at bread and butter and porridge. The canned milk they pronounced abominable, but soon learned that Mrs. Maybrook’s cows would furnish a fair supply of their essential diet. Miss Anne came in a little wearily, glad as she moved of the stay of a chair-back and the boys’ help, for they all rose at once.