“Oh, father, do come and listen! The story's so exciting, isn't it, Matthew?”
I looked down into the boy's eyes shining with an expression that suddenly pierced my heart with a poignant memory of myself. Matthew was far away among the mountains and castles of Spain.
“Matthew,” demanded his sister, “why did he want to go fighting with all those people?”
“Because he was dotty,” supplied Moreton, who had an interesting habit of picking up slang.
“It wasn't at all,” cried Matthew, indignantly, interrupting Maude's rebuke of his brother.
“What was it, then?” Moreton demanded.
“You wouldn't understand if I told you,” Matthew was retorting, when Maude put her hand on his lips.
“I think that's enough for to-night,” she said, as she closed the book. “There are lessons to do—and father wants to read his newspaper in quiet.”
This brought a protest from Biddy.
“Just a little more, mother! Can't we go into the schoolroom? We shan't disturb father there.”