"What sort of things?" the other asked curiously.
"Oh, for taking such good care of me, and making people so kind. Then every day I thank God for making me well; and I thank Him for you, Theo."
"For me?" Theodore cried in great surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Your mother wanted you to be called Theodore, because it means 'Gift of God,'" Jack said earnestly, his dark eyes resting lovingly on his stepbrother's face, "and I think that's what you are to me. God gave you to me when I was very ill, and I never forget to thank Him for that!"
"What an odd idea!"
Theodore reflected a moment, asking himself how he would like to go back to the old days, before his stepmother and her little son had come to Afton Hall. He remembered how moody and irritable his father used to be; how the servants had continually quarrelled amongst themselves; and how lonely he himself had often been. All that was altered now. Then, had he nothing to thank God for, too? Jack's simple faith and grateful love put him to shame.
The two boys went quietly downstairs and out into the yard, where they stood and watched the cows milked, and drank a glassful each of the warm, frothy beverage which the milkmaid offered them. Mrs. Fry was up, bustling hither and thither. She allowed the boys to feed the poultry, and told them how often members of her feathered family fall victims to a sly old fox which had lived in the district for years.
"They hunt him every winter," she explained; "but there! he knows the moors better than any huntsman does, and it's my belief they'll never catch him. Last autumn he had several of my young turkeys; dear, dear, I was vexed: turkeys are so difficult to rear, too!"
In a corner of the yard was a pond where the geese and ducks disported themselves, and the boys spent some time in watching a brood of ducklings which had taken to the water that morning for the first time. Then they caught sight of the farmer, and tore after him to enquire where he was going. He explained that he was about to visit some sheep and lambs in a field near by, and good-naturedly invited the boys to accompany him. He spoke the broadest moorland dialect, so that his little companions found some difficulty in understanding what he said at first; and in consequence had often to ask him to repeat his remarks, whereupon he would raise his voice, as though he thought they must be deaf, greatly to their amusement.
"I think I like the black and white lambs best," Jack said to Theodore, as they stood in the gateway of a field where a score or more of lambs frisked about by their mothers' sides, whilst the farmer strolled around examining his flock. "Oh, Theo, look! there's one all black. Isn't he a beauty! What a curly back he has!"