'I am glad to see him out of doors,' said Ethel.

'Henry was bent on it; but I think the air and the glare of
everything is too much for him; he is so tired and oppressed.'

'I am sure he must like your, singing,' said Ethel.

'It is almost the only thing that answers,' said Averil, her eyes
wistfully turning to the sofa; 'he can't read, and doesn't like being
read to.'

'It is very difficult to manage a boy's recovery,' said Ethel. 'They
don't know how to be ill.'

'It is not that,' replied the sister, as if she fancied censure
implied, 'but his spirits. Every new room he goes into seems to beat
him down; and he lies and broods. If he could only talk!'

'I know that so well!' said Ethel. But to Averil the May troubles
were of old date, involved in the mists of childhood. And Ethel
seeing that her words were not taken as sympathy, continued, 'Do not
the little girls amuse him?'

'Oh no! they are too much for him; and I am obliged to keep them in
the nursery. Poor little things! I don't know what we should do if
your sister Mary were not so kind.'

'Mary is very glad,' began Ethel, confusedly. Then rushing into her
subject: 'Next week, I am to take Aubrey to the seaside; and we
thought if Leonard would join us, the change might be good for him.'