“Well, don’t stuff him too much,” said her cousin, and the two went out.
St. Quentin’s caution was not needed. For once Pauly did not seem hungry, even for cake. He was delighted with his dog and kept it on his knee all through tea-time, but though he set up a little shout of joy at the sight of the splendid cake, he only played with the noble slice that Sydney cut for him, and couldn’t be persuaded to be hungry even when “Carlo” was made to bark for crumbs!
“I don’t think the child is well,” said Miss Osric.
They gave up coaxing him to eat after that, and all three sat upon the hearth-rug, building, with Miss Osric’s bricks, a most wonderful kennel for Carlo.
For a little while Pauly seemed happy, and laughed merrily enough, then suddenly, without apparent reason, he began to cry.
Sydney, who had never seen the manly little fellow shed tears yet for any reason whatsoever, was alarmed.
She gathered him into her arms and tried to find out what was wrong. “What is it, Pauly, darling? Aren’t you well?”
“Want Daddy?” Pauly sobbed, nor could they comfort him.
Sydney had risen to ring and order the pony-carriage, thinking that she and Miss Osric had better take their little visitor back at once to the daddy he was crying for, when one of the footmen came up to the school-room to announce “Mr. Seaton is come for Master Paul.”