“I was thinking about Dearest,” he said; “and—and I think I'd better get up and walk up and down the room.”
He rose up, and put his hands in his small pockets, and began to walk to and fro. His eyes were very bright, and his lips were pressed together, but he kept his head up and walked firmly. Dougal moved lazily and looked at him, and then stood up. He walked over to the child, and began to follow him uneasily. Fauntleroy drew one hand from his pocket and laid it on the dog's head.
“He's a very nice dog,” he said. “He's my friend. He knows how I feel.”
“How do you feel?” asked the Earl.
It disturbed him to see the struggle the little fellow was having with his first feeling of homesickness, but it pleased him to see that he was making so brave an effort to bear it well. He liked this childish courage.
“Come here,” he said.
Fauntleroy went to him.
“I never was away from my own house before,” said the boy, with a troubled look in his brown eyes. “It makes a person feel a strange feeling when he has to stay all night in another person's castle instead of in his own house. But Dearest is not very far away from me. She told me to remember that—and—and I'm seven—and I can look at the picture she gave me.”
He put his hand in his pocket, and brought out a small violet velvet-covered case.
“This is it,” he said. “You see, you press this spring and it opens, and she is in there!”