She had not to wait long; the Squire was always in excellent time, and very soon she saw the familiar white head passing in through the open door.
Was he alone? No, surely not! In another moment all doubt was at an end. He had entered, leading by the hand a little boy in a suit of black velvet, and in another moment or two the children were sitting quietly in their places immediately facing one another.
Queenie’s gaze immediately fastened upon the little boy’s face, and fixed itself there with the unconscious interest and frankness only possible in childhood.
“How pretty he is!” was her first thought; her second “But, how sad!”
She had certainly never seen any one quite like him before. She could not tell what it was made him so different from other boys she had known; but she was quite aware that there was a difference.
No boy she had ever seen before had ever looked dreamy and sorrowful and bewildered, as this little boy did almost all through the service. The wistful sadness in his great dark eyes stirred Queenie’s sympathy as much as it quickened her imagination.
All her doubts as to the little boy’s “fitness” to be her friend vanished, she knew not how. All that seemed of any importance now was that he seemed lonely and unhappy, and that of course she must make friends with him and try to comfort him. She caught herself wondering again and again what he could be thinking of, as he sat so still in his corner, his eyes sometimes fixed upon the clergyman, sometimes wandering dreamily towards one or another of the stained glass windows. Did it all seem very strange to him? or did he remember what a church was like and feel at home there? His deportment was quite correct, but that might be imitation. How much did he remember, and how much was forgotten? It was a question that affected her imagination keenly and quite occupied all her thoughts.
She was glad that the little boy was younger than herself, though she could hardly have said why. He did not look a bit more than seven or eight, whilst she was nearly ten, and he did not look at all strong. She would be able to patronize and protect him, which was of all things what she loved best to do.
Fortune favored Queenie that day, for, as the congregation left the church, Sir Walter said to his little daughter,—
“Don’t be in a hurry; I want to speak to the Squire.”