f
the redoubled love which their constant association called forth. They
did not talk together of any family sorrows. It was never intimated
between them that anything wrong happened when papa was late and mamma
anxious, or when there were people at Markland who were not _nice_,--oh,
not a word; but the child was anxious as well as mamma. He too got the
habit of watching, listening for the hurried step, the wild rattle of
the phaeton with those two wild horses, which Lord Markland insisted
on driving, up the avenue. He knew everything, partly by observation,
partly by instinct. He walked with his mother now, clinging with both
hands to her arm, his head nearly on a level with her shoulder, and
close, close to it, almost touching, his little person confused in
the outline of her dress. The sunshine lay full along the line of the
avenue, just broken in two or three places by the shadow of those old
and useless trees, but without a speck upon it or a sound.

"I don't think papa can be coming, Geoff, and it is time you had your
tea."

"Never mind me. I'll go and take it by myself, if you want me to, and
you can wait here."

"Why?" she said. "It will not bring him home a moment sooner, as you and
I know."

"No, but it feels as if it made him come; and you can see as far as the
gate. It takes a long time to drive up the avenue. Oh yes, stop here;
you will like that best."

"I am so silly," she said, which was her constant excuse. "When you are
grown up, Geoff, I shall always be watching for you."

"That you shan't," said the boy. "I'll never leave you. You have had
enough of that."

"Oh yes, my darling, you will leave me. I shall want you to leave me.
A boy cannot be always with his mother. Come, now, I am going to be
strong-minded. Let us go in. I am a little tired, I think."

"Perhaps the funeral was later than he thought," said the boy.

"Perhaps. It was very kind of papa to go. He does not like things of that
kind; and he was not over-fond of Mr. Warrender, who, though he was very
good, was a little dull. Papa doesn't like dull people."

"No. Do you like Theo Warrender, mamma?"

"Well enough," said Lady Markland. "I don't know him very much."

"I like him," said the child. "He knows a lot: he told me how to do that
Latin. He is the sort of man I should like for my tutor."

"But he is a gentleman, Geoff. I mean, he would never be a tutor. He is
as well off as we are,--perhaps better."

"Are men tutors onl