“I'll come every Saturday and Sunday, Uncle Jethro,” she said, smiling up at him. “Saturday is only two days away, now. I can hardly wait.”
“Y-you'll come sometime?”
“Uncle Jethro, do you think I'll be away from you, except—except when I have to?”
“C-come and read to me—won't you—come and read?”
“Of course I will!”
“C-call to mind the first book you read to me, Cynthy?”
“It was 'Robinson Crusoe,'” she said.
“'R-Robinson Crusoe.' Often thought of that book. Know some of it by heart. R-read it again, sometime, Cynthy?”
She looked up at him a little anxiously. His eyes were on the great hill opposite, across Coniston Water.
“I will, indeed, Uncle Jethro, if we can find it,” she answered.