The house-caravan stood a little way off, drawn aside when they began to break up. They ascended its steps behind, and entered an enchanting little room. It had muslin curtains to the windows, and a small stove in which you could see the bright red coals. On the stove stood a coffee-pot and a covered dish. How nice and warm the place felt, after the nearly shelterless night!
The breakfast-things were still on the table. Mr. Halliwell had had his breakfast, but Mrs. Halliwell would not eat until she had found the boy. She had been unhappy about him all the night. Her husband had assured her the sovereign was a good one, and the boy had told her he had no money but the sovereign! She little knew how seldom he fared better than that same night! When he got among hay or straw, that was luxury.
They sat down to breakfast, and the good woman was very soon confirmed in the notion that the boy was a gentleman.
“Call your dog now,” she said, “an’ let’s see if he’ll come!”
“May I whistle, ma’am?”
“Why not!—But will he hear you?”
“He has very sharp ears, ma’am.”
Clare gave a low, peculiar whistle. In a second or two, they heard an anxious little whine at the door. Clare made haste to open it. There stood Abdiel, with the words in his eyes, as plain almost as if he spoke them—“Did you call, sir?” The woman caught him and held him to her bosom.
“You blessed little thing!” she said.
And surely if there be a blessing to be had, it is for them that obey.