For he had asked this young stranger, whom he had never seen before, to come home and share his meal, and all in the frankness of his young hospitable feelings. In fact, he would have given him his own meal with the greatest of pleasure; but it had all been done without a thought of Aunt Ruth and Uncle Abram.
“Where do you live?” said Dick suddenly.
“Up at the end there; the white cottage.”
“What! with the pretty garden and the flowers?” cried the boy. “I know Nor’-nor’-west Cottage. Father said he wished we could have it when we looked round.”
“Yes, that’s my home,” said Will. “Uncle is very fond of his garden, and takes great pains with it.”
“Uncle?” said Dick. “Do you live with your uncle?”
“And aunt,” replied Will quietly; and there was so much meaning in his tone that his companion did not ask the question upon his lips about father and mother.
“I like gardens,” said Dick; “but we can’t grow anything in our back garden in town. I did try some vegetable-marrows, but the cats scratched up some, and the smoke and blacks killed the others. Anything will grow down here, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes, if you don’t plant it just where the west wind cuts. It is so fierce sometimes. Let’s go round by the back, and I can take you through our garden.”
“All right!” cried Dick eagerly, and he did not notice the deepening of the colour in his new friend’s face, for Will felt guilty of a subterfuge. He was really alarmed as to the result of his invitation, and its effect upon his aunt, so he hoped by going round by the back to find his old uncle in the garden, according to his custom, planting, weeding, and fumigating his plants, whether they needed it or no.