. . . . . .
At the end of eight days they returned to Fisherton.
Antonio now told Barclay that he must not come near the windmill for five days, but that he, Antonio, would come to see his mother and Phœbe.
So he did the second night.
“Been very busy all day,” he explained to Mrs. Stuart, “or would have come earlier. And this is Phœbe, that I have heard so much about. Come towards me, child.”
Like every other child, Phœbe was somewhat afraid of him at first.
“Don’t be afraid, dearie,” he said; “I’m not pretty, because my face is the colour of a brick, and all that, but I dearly love little boys and girls.”
Mrs. Stuart hastened away to get tea, which she made with her own hands, and the two were left to talk together.
When Mrs. Stuart returned she found her wee daughter on perfectly familiar terms with the little weird man. In fact, she was sitting on one of his knees, prattling away as only children can, and Muffie the cat sat on the other, singing aloud.
I always think there must be something good in people whom cats and children take readily to.