A smile flitted across Walter’s face as he replied, “I really don’t know; she is out this morning.”
The conversation was brought to an end by the appearance of Thompson, who was no doubt greatly surprised to find a little girl and a striped cat with his master.
“I think I’d better go,” Caro said, “Aunt Charlotte might want me, but Trolley can stay awhile if you’d like to have him.”
Trolley as if to expostulate against being disturbed, tucked his head almost out of sight and curled up tighter than before. No one could have had the heart to disturb him.
“She is the child we saw on the fence the other day, Thompson,” Mr. Grayson explained as Caro ran off.
“Yes, sir;” Thompson replied, watching till the red jacket disappeared in the distance; “She’s visiting here—she’s Dr. Barrow’s granddaughter; I have seen her playing about. Shall I take you down through the garden sir?”
As he was wheeled along the sunny path there was a smile on Walter’s face. Caro had been right, he was lonely, and after the first moment he had not resented her sympathy, and now the pressure of Trolley’s very substantial frame against his arm, the thought of the little girl’s face as she told about her candle, gave him a new sense of companionship. When he had said he too was afraid of the dark, he was thinking of the future which once had been so bright to him, and over which the clouds had gathered so heavily; but a little cheer had found its way to his heart, and he could smile.
“Thompson, you needn’t mention it to Miss Elizabeth,—the child having been here I mean—it might annoy her.”
“No sir;” was the reply. “And I hope she’ll come again,” he added to himself, for he did not approve of the dreary, shut-in life led by his master.