"Why, of course, child; you don't suppose we're going to leave you behind."
"Oh, how good of you! how jolly! Hurrah!" and Bertie executed a sort of war-dance, tossed his hat in the air, and kissed his aunt and Agnes a dozen times at least before taking his seat in the cab. "You had better go with your aunt in a hansom, Bertie," Uncle Clair said; "Eddie, Agnes, and I will go with the luggage. If you get to the station first, wait for us at the booking-office. Mind you don't get lost," he added, with a smile, as they drove away.
"As if I could get lost in the City, Aunt Amy!" Bertie said proudly. "Why, I know the place by heart now; and shan't I be glad to get away from it for a whole week? Was it not kind of Uncle Gregory to give me a holiday?"
"Very good, Bertie. You seem to get on capitally. Do you know, dear, I am sorry we did not try to persuade Eddie to take his place in the office too: I almost think he would have been happier, and have got on better; he does not seem very contented with us, and, worst of all, he does not make much progress in the profession he has chosen. Agnes is far ahead of him."
"But Eddie is very clever, Aunt Amy: he can do anything if he likes," Bertie cried loyally. "And I do not think he would get on with Uncle Gregory: he would never like the City; besides, Eddie never cared to be told to do anything. Even poor papa used to say, 'Please, Eddie,' or 'Perhaps you will do so, Eddie.' Now, Uncle Gregory orders me to do forty different things in different ways every day, and I don't mind a bit; but Eddie would stand and look at him, and frown so, and just walk away. My brother would never get on with Uncle Gregory, Aunt Amy," Bertie repeated gravely. "Eddie would never make a merchant."
"And your uncle Clair says he will never make an artist, unless he changes greatly," said Aunt Amy, rather sadly. "Poor Eddie! I am really very anxious about his future: he is so like his father: his ideas are quite magnificent, but he has no energy."
"He's clever, though, auntie; papa often said Eddie was a genius," Bertie whispered, "and I can work enough for us both. When I am rich, and can buy back Riversdale, Eddie will be quite happy. You don't know how different he will be when he gets back to our beautiful home," and Bertie's eyes sparkled, and his cheeks flushed at the thought, for the dream of Bertie's life was to get back Riversdale. The anxieties of the great establishment in Mincing Lane never touched him; he knew nothing of risks, disappointments, or failures; in fact, Bertie never even thought of such things, for he was but a child at heart, and had perfect faith in his uncle's assurance that if he were only a good, obedient, industrious boy he would be very rich some day, and get back his home. But no thought of the busy City, the close, dusty office, or the hot library at Kensington troubled him as he took his seat in the train, and was whirled at the rate of fifty miles an hour southward. Eddie sat silently looking out of the window, envying his brother's high spirits; he could not think what made Bertie so happy when he felt discontented and miserable, and thoroughly dissatisfied with everything in the world. Agnes, too, seemed infected with some of Bertie's good humour; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed, and she laughed merrily at the utter nonsense her cousin chattered incessantly, while poor Eddie hugged his discontent, and made the most of his misery. And yet he had no real cause to be unhappy: every one was kind, gentle, patient with him; he had not a reasonable wish in the world ungratified; and yet he sat silent, drumming with his fingers on the window of the carriage, while the others chatted and laughed, and seemed as if they could not keep still for very enjoyment.
"Oh, auntie, how lovely it is!" Agnes cried, "Look how the sun shines on the trees, and the brook looks like summer lightning. It is good to get away from London, and see the country once more; and such a sky, Bertie! you don't have anything like that in Mincing Lane!"
"No; but though our skies may be somewhat inky, Miss Agnes, they have a silver or a golden lining," Bertie replied, with the air of a judge. "We don't want sunshine in the City, because we have no time to look at it; and besides, we have plenty of gas and electric light."
Eddie frowned, and was going to say something about his brother's want of artistic taste, when Uncle Clair interrupted him by a hearty laugh.