"Papa. I asked him one day."
"Oh! and Uncle Gregory: what did he do? He never comes here either;" and Bertie looked up the road again, as if he did not care very much to hear the probable reason of that relative's absence.
"Uncle Gregory is a merchant, and has to attend to his business, I suppose," Eddie replied, rather loftily. "He came here often enough—too often, I believe—when our mother was alive, and then papa and he disagreed, and he has not come since."
"Hum!" Bertie said, slipping down and stretching himself. "How did you find out, Eddie?"
"Why, I didn't find out. Papa talks to me sometimes about our relatives; you talk as if it were a crime for people not to come here when they have their own houses and things to attend to. You might just as well ask why we always stay at home."
"Oh! but that's different: Riversdale is such a jolly place. Why, I wouldn't live anywhere else for anything, would you, Eddie?"
"I don't know; I think it would be wise to see other places before deciding. I should like to see a great city—London for instance."
"I wonder if Agnes is coming from London?" Bertie cried; "if so, she can tell us all about it."
"But I'd like to see for myself, to travel everywhere, visit all the famous places in the world—Italy, Greece, Egypt—see pictures, statues, beautiful churches."
"I think I'd prefer to stay at home: those places are such a long way off. I dare say I should be tired before I got there; and I don't care for pictures much, except of dogs and horses. I'd just like to stay here always, hunt and shoot and fish when I grow up, and play cricket and football, and just enjoy myself all the time," Bertie said soberly.