Mr Stanforth looked very much amused, but he was interested too. It is not uncommon in youth that considerable powers of mind may be exercised so entirely in one line, as to leave many fields of intelligence completely blank, and there were many points on which Cheriton simply accepted the code of his home, which, put into plain language, was, that study was study, and recreation out-of-door exercise of different kinds, intellectual amusements being regarded with suspicion. But there was much more than the boyish “Philistinism” of this last speech written on the face of the speaker, and Mr Stanforth felt inclined to draw it out.
“What did you say you were going to show me?” he said.
“I wanted you to see the rest of us!” said Cherry. “Where is Alvar? He would get my photograph case.”
Alvar was near at hand, talking to Gipsy Stanforth and to some other ladies, and he soon brought Cheriton a little leather case which contained a long row of handsome Lesters, and ended with the favourite dogs and horses, and a view of the front door at Oakby, with Nettie holding Buffer on the back of one of the stone wolves.
“There is a ready-made picture,” said Mr Stanforth.
“My brother loves that little animal,” said Alvar smiling, “he would like his picture better than that of any of us.”
“I am sure some of our dogs are worth painting,” said Cherry, “but Alvar does not appreciate Buffer’s style.”
And so, brightened by the fresh companionship and new scenes, the days slipped by, till Cheriton wished their sameness could continue for ever.