“It’s very strange,” said Mr. Dick, with a despondent look upon his papers, and with his hand among his hair again, “that I never can get that quite right. I never can make that perfectly clear. But no matter, no matter!” he said cheerfully, and rousing himself, “there’s time enough! My compliments to Miss Trotwood, I am getting on very well indeed.”

I was going away, when he directed my attention to the kite.

“What do you think of that for a kite?” he said.

I answered that it was a beautiful one. I should think it must have been as much as seven feet high.

“I made it. We’ll go and fly it, you and I,” said Mr. Dick. “Do you see this?”