Well, she was nice. Yes, he thought he should love her. She had a sweet sound in her voice, and a gentle expression about her mouth, that made him think she could not be unkind. She was not like his own mother in the least; she was not nearly so pretty, Arthur thought. His mother had pink on her cheeks, and a smile on her lips; but her face was very pale and colourless, her eyes were very deep and sad ones, and when she looked at him they seemed so large and dark, and as if they were saying what she did not speak with her lips. He felt he would love his aunt; but he was not quite sure that he would not be a little afraid of her, at first at any rate.
“You must be quite ready for something to eat,” said Mrs. Estcourt, as she led the way to the drawing-room. “You dined before you came away, Ronald, of course.”
“Yes, I did; but Arthur did not. I don’t think he has had much to eat all day, poor boy.”
Mrs. Estcourt looked very much surprised as she said, “Why, how could that be, Arthur? I thought boys were always hungry.”
“Well, I think I am generally,” said Arthur, “only I was not to-day.”
“Why not?” said his aunt.
“Don’t ask me why, please,” said Arthur in a low voice, “or else perhaps I might cry, and I don’t want to do that.”
She seemed to understand him, for she asked no more questions; only she took his hand as they went into the drawing-room, and as Arthur looked in her face, he thought there was something in her deep eyes, that reminded him of his mother.
If the hall at Myrtle Hill was neat and orderly, the drawing-room surely was equally so. There seemed to be everything in the room, that one could possibly want; and a great many that seemed to Arthur to be of no particular use. He could not help thinking of the difference there would be in that room, if he and Hector were to have a round in it. But it was very bright and comfortable, he thought; and this opinion seemed to be shared by a large white dog that lay in front of the fire. “Great, sleepy thing,” thought Arthur; “I would not give old Hector for ten cats like that.”
The tea-table itself was a very attractive object to his eyes just then; and he turned his attention to it now. Arthur thought it looked rather in keeping with the rest of the room. The silver teapot and cream-jug were bright and shining, but they were rather small; and he could not help thinking that it would take a great many of those daintily-cut slices of bread and butter, to satisfy his appetite; so he was glad to see a good-sized loaf on a table near, and other more substantial things which had been added for the travellers. Indeed he need not have been afraid of not having enough to eat, for his aunt, in her ignorance of boyish appetites, would not have been surprised, if he had consumed all that was before him. So that Arthur had to be quite distressed, that he could not please her by eating everything.