"Yes," she said, smiling at his way of putting it. "He is a very old gentleman, and he lives at the Manor House, which is not far from Holton. His name is Sir Richard Gidley. You were called after your father and him. I think he must be a very lonely old man now, because he has only servants to look after him. His wife, your grandmother, died many years ago, and your aunt—Aunt Arabella—is a widow, living in London. I do not know if you will see her or not, but you will be sure to see your grandfather. You must treat him with great respect, and, if you find him crotchety and cross, don't mind; at the same time you must not be afraid of him—you need never be afraid of any one so long as you do nothing to be ashamed of; remember that!"
"I will remember," the boy replied obediently, "but I hope I shall not go to England very soon. I don't think I much like the thought of a grandfather! And a Sir, too! I suppose he is a very grand man indeed?"
Mrs. Gidley made no direct reply; instead, she spoke of the time when she and her husband hoped to join their little son in England.
"You'll be a good boy, will you not?" she questioned. "And you'll obey Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus? I know you will when you think how they loved your mother when she was a little girl. If you find Aunt Mary Ann is fussy, you must remember she has a heart of gold, full of kindness and sympathy for others. And now, my dear boy, we have talked long enough, and you must go to sleep."
"Yes," Dick replied, "I will try."
After all, he thought, the day of his departure for England had not arrived yet, and, like most children, he had the happy knack of dismissing unpleasant thoughts from his mind. Why think of separation when his mother was still with him? Therefore he suffered her to kiss him good-night, and, whilst she sat watching him, fell asleep with his hand in hers. So Captain Gidley found the two when he peeped anxiously into the room later.
Mrs. Gidley gently relinquished the boy's hand, and, crossing to her husband's side, slipped her arm through his. Together they approached the bed, and stood looking on their sleeping child.
"Well?" Captain Gidley whispered.
"I have told him," she replied. "He was terribly upset at the thought of leaving us at first, but, on the whole, he bore the news better than I expected. I appealed to his sense of duty, and that told; he is a true soldier's son! But I did not tell him how soon the parting will be. Oh, Richard, it is hard!"
"It is," he agreed huskily, "more especially as he is our only child."