The little figure first made its appearance by peeping through the hedge in front of Peter’s cottage. It was a boy-child, aged perhaps some seven summers, and was clad in short blue serge knickerbockers and a blue jersey.
Peter himself was sitting by the door piping. The small figure thought his presence unobserved, [Pg 184]but Peter’s blue eyes were watching him keenly. He sat very still as he piped, and the music was calling the child to him.
It was a friendly, seductive little tune that he was playing, and Peter saw the child move towards the gate. He did not look at him now, fearing by the slightest sign or movement to startle him. Suddenly Peter felt a light touch on his knee, gentle as the touch of a small bird’s wing. The child had stolen up the path and was beside him.
Peter’s heart leapt with pleasure. It was as if he had drawn a little wild woodland creature near him. He still did not move, but he let the music die away.
“I like that,” said the small boy, gazing at him with solemn eyes, “and I like you.”
Peter’s eyes wrinkled at the comers in sheer delight. It was a good many years since a child’s voice had spoken to him, since a child’s hand had been laid upon his knee.
“Oh,” said Peter, smiling with pretended laziness, “do you? Well, I fancy the appreciation is reciprocated. What’s your name?”
“Dickie Gordon,” responded the small boy. [Pg 185]“I’m staying with my aunt and Lady Anne at the White House. I like Lady Anne.”
Peter laughed. “Your judgment and intuition are faultless, my son. The Lady Anne is the divinest woman the good Lord ever created.”
“Then you like her too?” queried Dickie.