However he said nothing; he stumped along in them manfully, and
tried to ignore such a minor grievance. Willy had really a stanch vein
in him, in spite of his gentleness and mildness. The other drawback
lay in the fact that the visit was to be of such short duration. It
began Monday and was expected to end Saturday. Willy counted the
hours; every night before he went to sleep he heaved a regretful sigh
over the day which had just gone. It had been decided before leaving
home that they were to return on Saturday, and he had had no
intimation of any change of plan.
Friday morning he awoke with the thought, "this is the last day."
However, Willy was a child, and, in the morning, a day still looked
interminable to him, especially when there were good times looming up
in it. To-day he expected to take a very long ride with uncle Frank,
who was going to Keene to buy a new horse.
"I want Willy to go with me, to help pick him out," he told Grandma
Stockton, and Willy took it in serious earnest. They were going to
carry lunch and be gone all day. This promised pleasure looked so big
to the boy, as he became wider awake, that he could see nothing at all
beyond it, not even the sad departure and end of this delightful visit
on the morrow. So he went down to breakfast as happy as ever.
"That boy certainly looks better," Grandpa Stockton remarked, as the
coffee was being poured.
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