"You would have Tommy march, then, for the clouds?"
The doctor laughed.
"He is an average boy. He will do that anyway. But I would have the true light on the clouds, to which he lifts his eyes."
"Ah—if his face were set upon them now," I said half to myself.
On the road to the downs was a small figure.
"See," said my companion, "He is on the upland road. Let us take it as an omen."
And we turned homeward.
Late into the night we talked, and I unfolded my fears for Tommy with a fulness that was foreign to me.
And our talk drifted, as such conversation will, into many and intimate matters, such as men rarely discuss between each other.