"Boys must amuse themselves," he reflected; "and at Humphrey's age it is natural they should do extraordinary things. I don't want to make him a muff." Involuntarily he smiled at the idea of Humphrey being a muff. "How easily Miles might have fallen into that horrid pond! The slightest push from Humphrey, who never looks where he is going, would have sent him in. Would he ever have recovered the effects of a wholesale soaking? However," he concluded, half out loud, as he rose to return to the nursery, "the session is nearly over, and I shall be down here, and able to look after them myself. And meanwhile I shall remain on for a day or two, till Miles is quite well again." CHAPTER XI. It was a pleasant little holiday that Sir Everard spent with his children during the days that followed; and often in after years did he look back upon it with a tender regret. Miles's health improved steadily, and in a little while he was allowed to be carried in the afternoon to his father's dressing-room where, nestled in a huge arm-chair, with his father and Humphrey sitting by, he passed some very happy hours. Sometimes they played games, or else Sir Everard would read out loud from a book of fairy tales he had brought from London. One evening he read a story which greatly delighted both little boys. It was about a wonderful mirror, which had the power of showing to its owner what any of his absent friends might be doing at the moment he was looking into it. "Oh, how I _wish_ I could have such a mirror!" said Humphrey, very earnestly. "How I wish I could!" echoed Miles. "Do you?" said Sir Everard; "I wonder why." Humphrey did not answer; he was gazing out of the window in deep thought. "Who would you look for, my little man?" asked Sir Everard of Miles. "I should look for you, dear Fardie." "But I am here, darling." "Not always," said Miles, laying his little hand caressingly on Sir Everard's. "When you are away in London, I should like to look in and see what you are doing." It was by these engaging little words and ways, that Miles had wound himself so closely round his father's heart. "So you would like to see me when I am away," he said, stroking the child's hand, "do you miss me when I'm not with you?" "So much, Fardie; I wish you would never go. Humphie, don't we miss Fardie dreadfully when he's away, and wish he would never go?" Sir Everard glanced at his elder boy, as if hoping to hear him confirm his little brother's words, but Humphrey was still looking thoughtfully up, out of the window, and took no notice. "What is he thinking about?" whispered Sir Everard to Miles. "I don't know," said Miles, softly; "perhaps he's wishing very hard for a mirror." Whatever the boy was wishing for, it must have been something which he felt he could never have, for the brown eyes were full of tears as they gazed up into the blue sky.