Dick followed his uncle, whilst Miss Warren went downstairs and rang for tea. Presently the others joined her, and they sat down at the table.
Dick noticed that Aunt Mary Ann did most of the talking, whilst Uncle Theophilus sat by and listened, only now and then putting in a word.
Uncle Theophilus was a big man, as slow in manner as in speech. He was some years his sister's senior, and looked more than his age. There was something remarkably attractive in his grave, clean-shaven face, and the smile which occasionally lit up his grey eyes was peculiarly gentle and sweet. When the little boy had slipped his fingers into the doctor's large hand that morning, he had felt instinctively, with youth's quick perception, that he had found a friend; and during the journey from London to Holton, though they had not talked much, Dick had been strengthened in his first impression that Uncle Theophilus was a person to be trusted.
Miss Warren was much distressed to find that Dick had a very poor appetite; and was loud in her exclamations of disappointment because he appeared incapable of appreciating the many good things before him.
"A little more ham, Dick?—No! Then have some cake?—No! Some bread and butter?—No, again! Why, you have not had enough to satisfy a robin!" she exclaimed, when Dick politely but firmly declined to eat any more. "Theophilus, you must give him a tonic! The poor child has no appetite whatever!"
"Fresh English breezes will be the best tonics for him, I expect," the doctor replied quietly; "however, we shall see! I shall prescribe that he keeps out-of-doors as much as possible!"
"But you'll give him some medicine, won't you?" Miss Warren asked anxiously.
"I think not. He shall have some drives with me. How would you like that, Dick?"
"Oh, that would be splendid!" the little boy cried, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "What is your horse called, Uncle Theophilus?"
"Firefly."