At any rate, this conversation had the happy effect of banishing constraint, and satisfying Ethel that the let-alone system was kindness, not neglect. She was at ease in discussing fossils, though he contributed no word, and she let him sleep or wake as he best liked; whilst Aubrey read to her the 'Cruise of the Betsey.'
Henry's prescription was sent to invigorate the fishes, when its cessation was found to be followed by the recovery of sleep and appetite, and in the cool of the evening, by a disposition to stroll on the beach, and lie under the lee of a rock upon a railway rug, which Ethel had substituted for the 'three-legged delusion.'
There he was left, while his companions went fossil-hunting, and stayed so long as to excite their compunction, and quicken their steps when they at length detached themselves from the enticing blue lias.
'What has he got there?' cried Aubrey. 'Hillo, old fellow! have you fallen a prey to a black cat?'
'Cat!' returned Leonard, indignantly; 'don't you see it is the jolliest little dog in the world?'
'You call that a dog?' said the other boy with redoubled contempt; 'it is just big enough for little Margaret's Noah's Ark!'
'It really is a beauty!' said Ethel. 'I have known one of Flora's guests bring a bigger one in her muff.'
'It is the most sensible little brute,' added Leonard. 'See; beg, my man, beg!'
And the beauteous little black-coated King Charles erected itself on its hind legs, displaying its rich ruddy tan waistcoat and sleeves, and beseeching with its black diamond eyes for the biscuit, dropped and caught in mid-air. It was the first time Leonard had looked bright.
'So you expect us to sanction your private dog stealing?' said Aubrey.