"I know you have always been very kind in helping me, but still what made you so sorrowful when you came in from milking, if it was not that?"
"It was not that, at any rate," answered George.
"Then what was it? Do tell me, George, for I know there is something amiss, and I cannot tell what it is."
"It is nothing that you can help, Sally, so keep yourself easy, and get well again, for that will sooner bring back my spirits than any thing else."
"George, do tell me what is the matter. I am very sick, and it only makes me worse to think of your being so sorrowful, and I not know the cause."
"Oh! I am not sorrowful," returned George, endeavouring to speak cheerfully, "I am only disappointed, but I shall soon get over it; for my father told me last night whilst we were milking, that he has had so many losses this season, both in sheep, and cows, and horses, that he will not be able to send me to school as he had promised to do."
But though George began his speech with an assumed cheerfulness, he was unable to keep it up; and as he pronounced the last words, the tears, in spite of his utmost efforts, filled his eyes, and were about to force themselves down his cheeks, when the voice of his mother calling him from below, checked their course, and he hastened down stairs to obey the summons.
"Tom, Sally wants you to go up stairs to her," said Peggy, in the evening, when the family were all assembled to supper.
"Wants me!" said Tom, in surprise. "What does she want me for? She surely does not expect that I can read to her, or talk to her about books, as George does."
"I don't know, but she said I must tell you to come up and speak to her."