I guessed at once what was the matter: Pretty-Heart was very sensitive; he got angry very quickly and sulked for a long time. In the present circumstances he was annoyed because I had not taken him into my cabin, and he showed his displeasure by pretending to be asleep. I could not explain to him why I had been forced to leave him on deck, and as I felt that I had, at least in appearances, done him an injury, I took him in my arms and cuddled him, to show him that I was sorry. At first he continued to sulk, but soon, with his changeable temper, he thought of something else, and by his signs made me understand that if I would take him for a walk on land he would perhaps forgive me. The man who was cleaning the deck was willing to throw the plank across for us, and I went off into the fields with my troop. The time passed, playing with the dogs and chasing Pretty-Heart; when we returned the horses were harnessed and the barge in readiness to start. As soon as we were all on the boat the horses began to trot along the towing path; we glided over the water without feeling a movement, and the only sound to be heard was the song of the birds, the swish of the water against the boat, and the tinkle of bells around the horses' necks. Here and there the water seemed quite black, as though it was of great depth; in other parts it was as clear as crystal and we could see the shiny pebbles and velvety grass below. I was gazing down into the water when I heard some one call my name. It was Arthur. He was being carried out on his board. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, "better than in the field?" I told him that I had, after I had politely spoken to Mrs. Milligan. "And the dogs?" asked Arthur. I called to them; they came running up with Pretty-Heart; the latter making grimaces as he usually did when he thought that we were going to give a performance. Mrs. Milligan had placed her son in the shade and had taken a seat beside him. "Now," she said to me, "you must take the dogs and the monkey away; we are going to work." I went with the animals to the front of the boat. What work could that poor little boy do? I looked round and saw that his mother was making him repeat a lesson from a book she held in her hand. He seemed to be having great difficulty in mastering it, but his mother was very patient. "No," she said at last, "Arthur, you don't know it, at all." "I can't, Mamma, I just can't," he said, plaintively. "I'm sick." "Your head is not sick. I can't allow you to grow up in utter ignorance because you're an invalid, Arthur." That seemed very severe to me, yet she spoke in a sweet, kind way. "Why do you make me so unhappy? You know how I feel when you won't learn." "I cannot, Mamma; I cannot." And he began to cry. But Mrs. Milligan did not let herself be won over by his tears, although she appeared touched and even more unhappy.