"Oh, I shall grow away now I'm in England," Dick replied hopefully. "Father said he expected I should be grown out of his knowledge before we meet again." A slight mist crossed the brown eyes for a minute but was winked away. "When I came into the room just now I thought I had seen you before," he continued; "but of course I never had. I know what made me think so, though. I see it now."
"What do you see?" asked Sir Richard curiously.
"Why, that you're like father! Your eyes are like his, only different in the way they look; and you speak like him, too—only not quite the same!"
"That's not a very lucid explanation," Sir Richard said, with an involuntary smile; "but it would be strange if there was no likeness between me and my son," he added, a pleased look creeping over his stern face.
"Ah, now you're more like him!" Dick cried, his pale countenance lighting up with pleasure. "I'm so glad you are! I shall like you so much better—"
"You are very fond of your father?" Sir Richard interrupted questioningly.
"Yes," Dick answered, "indeed I am! When I grow up I mean to be a brave soldier like he is!"
"You would not be a Gidley if you were a coward!" the old man declared. "You come from a fighting race!"
The look of disappointment on his face had given way to one of interest. He turned to the doctor, and asked if it was intended the boy should go to school. "Not for the present," Dr. Warren answered, shaking his head; "his parents would rather have his health set up first, and I think they are wise. There is nothing really amiss with him; he is merely suffering from the effects of the Indian climate."
Sir Richard nodded, and appeared relieved. He glanced from the sister to the brother, and after a moment's hesitation, said,—