s gifts.
Their games had twice the zest when Eddie played with them--he threw
himself into the sport with such heartfelt zeal that they were inspired
to do their best. Many a ramble in the woods and fields around Richmond
he took with them, telling them the most wonderful stories as he went
along; but sometimes, quite suddenly, during these outings, Edgar
Goodfellow would give place to Edgar the Dreamer and they would
wonderingly realize that his thoughts were off to a world where none of
them could follow--none of them unless it were Rob Sully, who was
himself something of a dreamer, and could draw as well as Edgar.

The transformation would be respected. His companions would look at him
with something akin to awe in their eyes and tell each other in low
tones not to disturb Eddie, he was "making poetry," and confine their
chatter to themselves, holding rather aloof from the young poet, who
wandered on with the abstracted gaze of one walking in sleep--with them,
but not of them.

There were other, less frequent, times when his mood was as much
respected, when added to the awe there was somewhat of distress in their
attitude toward him. At these times he was not only abstracted, but a
deep gloom would seem to have settled upon his spirit. Without apparent
reason, melancholy claimed him, and though he was still gentle and
courteous, they had a nameless sort of fear of him--he was so unlike
other boys and it seemed such a strange thing to be unhappy about
nothing. It was positively uncanny.

At these times they did not even try to be with him. They knew that he
could wrestle with what he called his "blue devils" more successfully
alone. A restlessness generally accompanied the mood, and he would
wander off by himself to the churchyard, the river, or the woods; or
spend whole long, golden afternoons shut up in his room, poring over
some quaint old tale, or writing furiously upon a composition of his
own. When he looked at the boys, he did not seem to see them, but would
gaze beyond them--the pupils of his full, soft, grey eyes darkening and
dilating as if they were held by some weird vision invisible to all eyes
save his own; and indeed the belief was general among his friends that
he was endowed with the power of seeing visions. This impression had
been made even upon his old "Mammy," when he was a mite of a lad. Many a
time, when he turned that abstracted gaze upon her, she had said to him,

"What dat you lookin' at