The boy cast down his eyes. “Well, you see, miss, up to now things has been a bit orkerd. Father didn’t always bring home much, and I was at school. But that’ll be different now, and I expect we’ll get along fine.”
At this moment Miss Mervyn appeared from the house. She carried Philippa’s broad hat, a parasol, and a small knitted shawl, and came hastening up rather breathless.
“My dear child,” she exclaimed, “no hat, nothing to shield you from the sun, and nothing over your shoulders! You will most certainly be ill!” She put the hat on Philippa’s head, and the shawl round her neck, as she spoke. “Your tea is ready,” she continued, with a puzzled glance at the boy, who had fallen busily to work again.
Philippa made no other answer than a sharp backward drive with her elbow, which nearly hit Miss Mervyn in the face as she stooped anxiously over her. Then she continued hurriedly to the boy:
“What’s your name, and where do you live in Upwell? I mean to go and see your sister, and take her some nourishing things.”
“Thank you, miss,” murmured the boy shyly; “my name’s Dan Tuvvy, and we live at Number 10 Market Street.”
“Then,” said Philippa, “it’s your father, I suppose, that works for Mr Solace?”
Dan nodded.
“And it was my cousin Dennis,” continued Philippa, with a superior air, “who was so very good to him, you know, and took so much trouble to persuade Mr Solace not to turn him away. You ought to be very grateful, you know, to my cousin Dennis.”
Dan, who had not once looked up since Miss Mervyn’s appearance, now seemed suddenly startled out of his shyness. He raised a face so glowing with pleasure and affection at the mention of Dennis’s name, that he was almost like another boy.