her mother the sugared
claret and water with which her little travelling flask had been
filled. Mr. Kirkbright had monopolized Desire, sitting upon the
opposite side of the car, with another long talk, about brick and
tile making, and the compatibility of a paper manufactory and a
House of Refuge.

"I will not have it called that, though. It shall not be stamped
with any stereotyped name. It shall not even be a Home,--except _my_
home; and I'll just take them in: I and Euphrasia."

There was nothing for Rodney to do, but to sit down beside Sylvie,
with three hours before him, which he had earned by four months
among the wheels and cranks and wool-fluff.

Of all these four months there has been no chance to tell you
anything before as concerning him.

He had been at Arlesbury; learning to be a manufacturer; beginning
at the beginning with the belts and rollers, spindles, shuttles, and
harnesses; finding out the secrets of satinets and doeskins and
kerseys; _driving_, as he had wanted to do; taking hold of something
and making it go.

"It isn't exactly like trotting tandem," he told Sylvie, "but
there's a something living in it, too; a creature to bit and manage;
that's what I like about it. But I hate the oil, and the noise, and
the dust. Why, _this_ is pin-drop silence to it! I hope it won't
make me deaf,--and dumb! Father will feel bad if it does," he said,
with an indescribably pathetic demureness.

"Was it your father's plan?" asked Sylvie, laughing merrily.

"Well,--yes! At least I told him to take me and set me to work; or I
should pretty soon be good for nothing; and so he looked round in a
great fright and hurry, as you may imagine, and put me into the
first thing he could think of, and that was this. I'm to stay at it
for two years, before I--ask him for anything else. I think I shall
have a good right then, don't you? I'm thinking all the time about
my Three Wishes. I suppose I may wish three times when I begin? They
always do."

What could he talk but nonsense? Earnestness had been forbidden him;
he had to cover it up with the absurdity of a boy.

But what a blessing that it made no manner of difference! That in
all things of light and speech, the gracious law is that the flash
should go so much farther, as well as faster than the sound!

Something between them unspoken told the story that words, though
they be waited for, never tell half so well. She knew that she had
to do with his being in ear