"
He obeyed immediately.
"I've nearly broken your arms," I said, ashamed of having become a burden
to him the moment we met.
"I could run with you to the top of the hill!" he answered.
"I don't think you could," I returned. Perhaps I leaned a little toward
him; I do not know. He put his arm round me.
"You are not able to stand," he said. "Shall we sit a moment?"
CHAPTER XIV.
MOTHER AND UNCLE.
I was glad enough to sink on a clump of white clover. He stretched
himself on the heather, a little way from me. Silence followed. He was
giving me time to recover myself. As soon, therefore, as I was able, it
was my part to speak.
"Where is your horse?" I asked. The first word is generally one hardly
worth saying.
"I left him at a little farmhouse, about a mile from here. I was afraid
to bring him farther, lest my mother should learn where I had been. She
takes pains to know."
"Then will she not find out?"
"I don't know."
"Will she not ask you where you were?"
"Perhaps. There's no knowing."
"You will tell her, of course, if she does?"
"I think not."
"Oughtn't you?"
"No."
"You are sure?"
"Yes."
"You don't mean you will tell her a story?"
"Certainly not."
"What will you do then?"
"I will tell her that I will not tell her."
"Would that be right?"
Through the dusk I could see the light of his smile as he answered,
"I think so.
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