Contrary to Herodotus’ expectations, Harry did not meet him with a face as long as a fiddle on the Saturday morning which was to end their meetings for a time at least. No, Harry came running through the grass, brandishing a letter in his hand, and so out of breath that it seemed highly probable he had run all the way from the house. He tried to speak, but all he could say was:
“Ooph—ooph—ooph—I say—ooph—oh! dear——”; till at last he gave it up and sat down for a few minutes. Herodotus looked on smiling.
At last Harry looked up and said:
“I’m better now. I did sprint, and no mistake. Would you like to listen to this, Herodotus?”
“Yes, truly, for it must be of a joyful nature to excite thee thus.”
“It’s from my pater,” said Harry, “and he writes:——”
“‘I have now decided to leave for Egypt at the end of October, and you, your mother, and I will remain there till the end of April. I have secured a dahabiyeh’ (“goodness knows what that is,” said Harry), ‘and I hope we shall have a delightful time.’
“Great Scott! I should think we would. Isn’t it too ripping, Herodotus?. And do you know what a daha—thingummyjig is?”
“A dahabiyeh is a boat to take thee up the Nile,” replied the Greek.
“How scrummy,” cried Harry, whose language grew more slangy in moments of excitement. “I say, Father is a brick, isn’t he?”
“I suppose that is a term of affection?” said Herodotus.
“Yes,” answered Harry. ‘“It means a jolly good sort. Oh, Herodotus! I am so glad.”
“Thou seest I was right when I said it is wrong to grieve over what cannot be helped. Thou wast so sad at my departure——”
“Oh! and don’t think I’m not sorry now, Herodotus, please; only, of course, this has driven it out of my head. It’s a long while till November, and I shall miss you very much.”
“I believe thee, my boy. We are indeed good friends. Maybe next summer I shall come to thee again and hear thy stories of Egypt. Now we must cease our gossip if thou wouldst hear the end of Cambyses.”
