That's another of the things that I don't know what they feel like; and yet I want to know what everything feels like--even disagreeable things." "You'll know fast enough, I'm afraid," replied Christopher; "but even if it doesn't tire you, you would enjoy playing in the garden more than reading to Johnnie Stubbs--you know you would; and I can go and read to the little chap, if you are set on his being read to." "But you would much rather play in the garden than read to him; and especially as it is your holidays, and your own reading-time will soon begin." "Oh! _I_ don't matter.

Never bother your head about _me_; remember I'm all right as long as you are; and that as long as you're jolly, I'm bound to have a good time.

But it riles me to see you worrying and overdoing yourself." "You don't understand, Chris; you really are awfully stupid about understanding things.

I don't go to see Jemima and Johnnie because I hate going, and yet think I ought; I go because I am so sorry for them both that my sorriness makes me like to go." But Christopher did not understand, and Elisabeth could not make him do so.

The iron of duty had entered into his childish soul; and, unconsciously, he was always trying to come between it and Elisabeth, and to save her from the burden of obligation which lay so heavily upon his spirit.