Theodore nodded. Presently Seth Stanley turned his attention to his young visitors. "Well," he said, as he stood before them in his shirt sleeves with his arms crossed, "what do you think of my trade? Eh?"
He spoke with but a touch of the moorland dialect, in a voice which was singularly mellow and deep.
"I think it's a very nice trade," Theodore replied, politely; "my stepbrother was just asking me if I wouldn't like to be a blacksmith."
Seth Stanley glanced at Jack's pale face and slight form, a smile crossing his own countenance the while.
"I am stronger than I look," Jack said quickly. "I am not delicate like I used to be. Am I, Theo?"
"He used to have a bad back," Theodore explained, "but it's quite well now. He gets tired quicker than I do, but the doctors say he will grow stronger by-and-bye."
"Ah! the fine moorland air will put fresh life into him," the blacksmith declared. "So you are stepbrothers, I hear?"
The boys nodded.
"Which of you is Mr. Barton's son?"
"I am. Have you any children, Mr. Stanley?" Theodore asked, with polite interest, thinking he was justified in putting a question in his turn.