graver tone, added: "Robert's little brother, who didn't live very long, was just your age, Nathan. Having you like this," she pressed his arm, "has been a little like having him come back to me, to be busy over, and look out for."
"But Mrs. Barton," objected Nathaniel, careful not to move the arm where her hand still pressed, "Robert's little brother wouldn't have been uneducated, nor the rough sort of specimen I was when Robert took me in hand."
"And he wouldn't have been able, either," crisply Mrs. Barton retorted, "to give back to Robert his health again, the way you did on that 'Ellen T. Robinson' of yours, when you took Robert in hand. Oh—oh, come, don't let's get started matching obligations," she said playfully. "It's just a joy to me to have you living with us, and you know it is. And it's been a joy to Robert too to work and study with you. I sometimes think that Robert's creative ability has had more of an opportunity with you than with the church. Why, that first winter, when Robert wrote me that you had decided to let your boat go on without you, and that he was going to stay on here in San Francisco for a few months and see you get started on your new quest, I could just feel his interest and enthusiasm."
"It's been a fine quest, too," commented Nathan reflectively, his eyes upon the glowing ashes in the fireplace. "Quest," he repeated. "I like that word—search after something we haven't got, and want very much. It's what makes life a splendid experience, I think. Effort—endeavor," contemplatively his voice trailed off.
