"Not now," replied I.
"Is uncle?" he continued.
"No, I shall be your companion there," I said.
Linton sank back on his pillow and fell into a brown study.
"I won't go without uncle," he cried at length: "I can't tell where you mean to take me."
I attempted to persuade him of the naughtiness of showing reluctance to meet his father; still he obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, and I had to call for my master's assistance in coaxing him out of bed. The poor thing was finally got off, with several delusive assurances that his absence should be short: that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him, and other promises, equally ill-founded, which I invented and reiterated at intervals throughout the way. The pure heather-scented air, the bright sunshine, and the gentle canter of Minny, relieved his despondency after a while. He began to put questions concerning his new home, and its inhabitants, with greater interest and liveliness.

'Not now,' I replied. 'I shall be your companion.'
Linton sank back on his pillow. 'I won't go without uncle,' he cried, and obstinately resisted any progress towards dressing, until I had to call for my master's help. He was assured that his absence should be short, and that Mr. Edgar and Cathy would visit him; and I invented other promises, equally ill-founded, on the way.
The heather-scented air and the bright sunshine made him less despondent after a while, and he began to ask about his new home.
