lley, stretching round like a great horse-shoe, lay
range upon range of hills, now softest purple. The fourth side, on
which the boy gazed, was bounded by the sea--a shimmering patch of
blue. No scene could have been grander, none more infinitely
lonely. But Eustace was not thinking about it either admiringly or
otherwise.

Nesta joined her brother, and stared curiously at his unusually
serious face.

"What do you mean, Eustace?" she demanded.

He did not speak, so she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him
a little shake.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Mother," Eustace said quite shortly.

"Yes, I know," Nesta said; "but what about her?"

"Father's going away," Eustace said.

"Of course," Nesta said, rather scornfully; "you told me that
before. And I know mother will be dreadfully dull without him."

"Dull!" exclaimed Eustace, knocking the tips of his toes
impatiently against the woodwork.

"Yes, dull," said the girl.

"Worse than dull," Eustace responded soberly.

"But we can do our best to cheer her up till he comes back."

Eustace turned slowly round until he was staring right into Nesta's
eyes, and his look was so queer that she was startled.

"Do you mean to say you don't understand?" he said solemnly.

"No, I certainly don't," Nesta replied.

Eustace wheeled quickly back to the railing, gazing seaward again.

"Then I'm not going to tell you," he said decidedly.

Nesta stood blankly wondering for a moment.

"Well, it's hateful of you," she began; then suddenly her
expression changed. "Eustace," she exclaimed, grabbing his arm with
both hands, "do you mean mother will be frightened?"

"I'm not going to tell you," repeated the boy with seeming
obstinacy.

But Nesta's face was full of certainty.

"It _is_ that!" she said with conviction. "You think she will be
scared at being left."

Now Eustace had suddenly begun to repent of having said so much. He
had not the least desire to frighten Nesta; he had honestly
believed that she must have noticed what he did in their mother's
tone and look, but now he realized Nesta had not understood. He
stood silent, regretting his carelessness.

"O Eustace," Nesta cried, "of course it is that. How dreadful! I
remember now what father said--he knew mother might be frightened,
and that is why he offered to have Farley or Robertson up."

There was terror in Nesta's voice now, and Eustace rounded sharply
upon her.

"I say, shut up!" h