“You will stay with him then?” asked Sir Robert, evidently pleased at the fancy the child had taken to the lady.
Rhoda hesitated. There were details to be settled, of which the man took no cognizance. Perceiving her hesitation, he smiled, and waving his hand, said:
“You will want to know a great many things, about hours and holidays and—and other things. We can leave all those until Lady Sarah comes back next week, can’t we? My housekeeper will assign you rooms, any you care for, and you can do just as you please, as long as you make my boy happy. He is left too much alone. His mother doesn’t like Dourville; it doesn’t agree with her very well. I hope it will please you, however.”
“Thank you. I shall like it, I know,” said Rhoda.
“Come and talk to me,” said Caryl, “and let me show you my monkey, and my rabbits. I’ve got three, and some budgerigars. I hope you like birds. And I’ve got a dog. Would you like to see him? I want you to see him do his tricks.”
Off they went together, the lady and the child, and Sir Robert, standing blinking in the sunshine, seemed to have, Rhoda thought, a vague impression of having seen or heard something which the lady’s presence recalled.
But to her regret, it was evident that the recollection was fraught with pain.
She and the boy made the tour of the garden together, for he had dismissed the servant, asking Rhoda if she would draw him along.
By the time they had been an hour together, moving slowly along the shady walks, and visiting the boy’s numerous pets in rabbit-hutch and aviary, they were already firm friends; and when they returned to the terrace, Rhoda had the satisfaction of seeing Sir Robert standing at the library window, with a faint smile upon his face. He was pleased by the pleasure of his boy.
“It’s good of you to humour him by walking about so long when you must be tired, Miss Pembury,” he said. “I have sent for Mrs. Hawkes, the housekeeper, and directed her to have some tea for you, and to show you your rooms.”