“I will dress you myself, dear, and you shall come and sit with me in my sitting-room. But first I must go out.”
“Where to?”
“To the post-office to send a telegram.”
“To Dick?”
“No, dear; not to Dick, but somebody else.”
“Who?” asked the child.
“To my mother.”
“Have you a mother? You look very old to have a mother.”
“I have a mother, my dear, but she lives far away from here, in Cornwall.”
“Cornwall—that’s in the very, very south of England, not far from Devonshire, where one of my places is. You know, nurse, I am an awfully rich boy, don’t you?”