David Elginbrod

“Yes. But I couldn’t help that one.”

“Well, come along. I will read to you.”

“Oh! thank you. That will be delightful. But must we not go to our lessons?”

“I’m going to make a lesson of this. I have been talking to your papa; and we’re going to begin with a holiday, instead of ending with one. I must get better acquainted with you first, Harry, before I can teach you right. We must be friends, you know.”

The boy crept close up to him, laid one thin hand on his knee, looked in his face for a moment, and then, without a word, sat down on the couch close beside him. Before an hour had passed, Harry was laughing heartily at Gulliver’s adventures amongst the Lilliputians. Having arrived at this point of success, Hugh ceased reading, and began to talk to him.

“Is that lady your cousin?”

“Yes. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“I hardly know yet. I have not got used to her enough yet. What is her name?”

“Oh! such a pretty name—Euphrasia.”

“Is she the only lady in the house?”

“Yes; my mamma is dead, you know. She was ill for a long time, they say; and she died when I was born.”

The tears came in the poor boy’s eyes. Hugh thought of his own father, and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry laid his head on Hugh’s shoulder.

“But,” he went on, “Euphra is so kind to me! And she is so clever too! She knows everything.”

“Have you no brothers or sisters?”

“No, none. I wish I had.”

“Well, I’ll be your big brother. Only you must mind what I say to you; else I shall stop being him. Is it a bargain?”

“Yes, to be sure!” cried Harry in delight; and, springing from the couch, he began hopping feebly about the room on one foot, to express his pleasure.

“Well, then, that’s settled. Now, you must come and show me the horses—your ponies, you know—and the pigs—”

“I don’t like the pigs—I don’t know where they are.”

“Well, we must find out. Perhaps I shall make some discoveries for you. Have you any rabbits?”

“No.”

“A dog though, surely?”

“No. I had a canary, but the cat killed it, and I have never had a pet since.”

“Well, get your cap, and come out with me. I will wait for you here.”

Harry walked away—he seldom ran. He soon returned with his cap, and they sallied out together.

Happening to look back at the house, when a few paces from it, Hugh thought he saw Euphra standing at the window of a back staircase. They made the round of the stables, and the cow-house, and the poultry-yard; and even the pigs, as proposed, came in for a share of their attention. As they approached the stye, Harry turned away his head with a look of disgust. They were eating out of the trough.

“They make such a nasty noise!” he said.

“Yes, but just look: don’t they enjoy it?” said Hugh.

Harry looked at them. The notion of their enjoyment seemed to dawn upon him as something quite new. He went nearer and nearer to the stye. At last a smile broke out over his countenance.

“How tight that one curls his tail!” said he, and burst out laughing.

“How dreadfully this boy must have been mismanaged!” thought Hugh to himself. “But there is no fear of him now, I hope.”

By this time they had been wandering about for more than an hour; and Hugh saw, by Harry’s increased paleness, that he was getting tired.

“Here, Harry, get on my back, my boy, and have a ride. You’re tired.”

And Hugh knelt down.

Harry shrunk back.

“I shall spoil your coat with my shoes.”

“Nonsense! Rub them well on the grass there. And then get on my back directly.”

Harry did as he was bid, and found his tutor’s broad back and strong arms a very comfortable saddle. So away they went, wandering about for a long time, in their new relation of horse and his rider. At length they got into the middle of a long narrow avenue, quite neglected, overgrown with weeds, and obstructed with rubbish. But the trees were fine beeches, of great growth and considerable age. One end led far into a wood, and the other towards the house, a small portion of which could be seen at the end, the avenue appearing to reach close up to it.

“Don’t go down this,” said Harry.

“Well, it’s not a very good road for a horse certainly, but I think I can go it. What a beautiful avenue! Why is it so neglected?”

“Don’t go down there, please, dear horse.”

Harry was getting wonderfully at home with Hugh already.

“Why?” asked Hugh.

“They call it the Ghost’s Walk, and I don’t much like it. It has a strange distracted look!”

“That’s a long word, and a descriptive one too,” thought Hugh; but, considering that there would come many a better opportunity of combating the boy’s fears than now, he simply said: “Very well, Harry,”—and proceeded to leave the avenue by the other side. But Harry was not yet satisfied.

“Please, Mr. Sutherland, don’t go on that side, just now. Ride me back, please. It is not safe, they say, to cross her path. She always follows any one who crosses her path.”

Hugh laughed; but again said, “Very well, my boy;” and, returning, left the avenue by the side by which he had entered it.

“Shall we go home to luncheon now?” said Harry.

“Yes,” replied Hugh. “Could we not go by the front of the house? I should like very much to see it.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Harry, and proceeded to direct Hugh how to go; but evidently did not know quite to his own satisfaction. There being, however, but little foliage yet, Hugh could discover his way pretty well. He promised himself many a delightful wander in the woody regions in the evenings.