Dick looked rather doubtful.
"Er—ye-s. You see, it's a little change and excitement, and we don't get much of that commodity in Shorne Mills. So we're rather grateful to you than otherwise for pitching yourself at our front gate. If you could have managed to break both arms and a leg, I verily believe that mamma would have wept tears of joy."
"I'm afraid I can't say I'm sorry I did not gratify her to that extent," said Mr. Vernon, with a grim smile; but it was a smile, and his dark eyes were scanning the boy's handsome face with something approaching interest. "Mrs. Lorton is your stepmother? Did I hear her say so, or did I dream it?"
"It's no dream; it's real enough," said Dick, with intense gravity. "My father"—he seated himself more comfortably—"was Lorton & Lorton, the Patent Coffee Roaster, you know—perhaps you've heard of it?"
Mr. Vernon shook his head.
"Ah, well! a great many other people must have done so; for the roaster made a pile of money, and my father was a rich man. Molly, you can take that beef tea downstairs and give it to Snaps. He won't eat it, because he's a most intelligent dog. Thought I'd get her out of the room, sir. Molly's a good girl, but she's got ears and a tongue."
"So have I," said Drake Vernon, with a faint smile.
"Oh, I don't mind you. It's only right that you should know something about the people in whose house you are staying."
Drake Vernon frowned slightly, for there was the other side of the medal: surely, it was only right that the people in whose house he was staying should know something about himself.
"Father made a lot of money over a roaster; then my mother died. I was quite a kid when it happened; but Nell just remembers her. Then father married again; and, being rich, I suppose, wanted a fashionable wife. So he married mamma. I dare say that she's told you she's a Wolfer?"