When he went into the adjoining room to take his breakfast and saw what a great room it was, and found there was another adjoining it, which Dawson told him was his also, the feeling that he was very small indeed came over him again so strongly that he confided it to Dawson, as he sat down to the table on which the pretty breakfast service was arranged.
“I am a very little boy,” he said rather wistfully, “to live in such a large castle, and have so many big rooms—don’t you think so?”
“Oh, come!” said Dawson, “you feel just a little strange at first, that’s all; but you’ll get over that very soon, and then you’ll like it here. It’s such a beautiful place, you know.”
“It’s a very beautiful place, of course,” said Fauntleroy, with a little sigh; “but I should like it better if I didn’t miss Dearest so. I always had my breakfast with her in the morning, and put the sugar and cream in her tea for her, and handed her the toast. That made it very sociable, of course.”
“Oh, well!” answered Dawson, comfortably, “you know you can see her every day, and [there’s no knowing] how much you’ll have to tell her. Bless you! wait till you’ve walked about a bit and seen things—the dogs and the stables with all the horses in them. And, dear me, you haven’t looked even into the very next room yet!”
“What is there?” asked Fauntleroy,
“Wait until you’ve had your breakfast, and then you shall see,” said Dawson.
At this he naturally began to grow curious, and he applied himself assiduously to his breakfast.
“Now then,” he said, slipping off his seat a few minutes later; “I’ve had enough. Can I go and look at it?”
Dawson nodded and led the way.