"He said he was at first, and I think it is likely; but after that, he said Mr. Rhys was a great man, and he would not interfere with him."
"And how does Alfred like Mr. Rhys?"
"He likes him—" said Julia, turning over her ferns. "I like him. Mr. Rhys said he was sorry you were sick. Now, that is a frond. That is what it is called. Do you see, those are the seeds."
Eleanor sighed. She would have liked to take lessons of Mr. Rhys on another subject. She half envied Julia's liberty. There seemed a great wall built up between her and the knowledge she wanted. Must it be so always?
"Julia, when are you going to take a walk with Mr. Rhys again?"
"To-morrow," was the quick answer.
"I will give you something to ask him about."
"I don't want it. I always have enough to ask him. We are going after ferns; we always have enough to talk about."
"But there is a question I would like you to ask."
"What is it? Why don't you ask him yourself?"