"He is sure to do so, and sure too to be pleased with anything you think would be good for Ferdy," said Eva to her grandfather.
And this was quite true, for though Dr. Lilly no longer looked after ill people, his opinion was most highly thought of, and by no one more than by Mr. Ross, who had known him as long as he could remember knowing any one.
After Miss Lilly left him that afternoon, Ferdy, contrary to his custom, fell asleep and had a good long nap, only awaking when the carriage bringing his mother and Chrissie back from their expedition drove up to the door.
Mrs. Ross's anxious face grew brighter when she saw how fresh and well the boy was looking. She had been afraid lest the increasing heat of the weather would try Ferdy's strength too much, especially as the doctors would not yet allow him to be carried out of doors. But here again the oriel window proved of the greatest use: it could always be open at one side or the other, according to the time of day, so that it was easy to catch whatever breeze was going for Ferdy's benefit, and yet to shade him from the sun. He certainly did not look at all fagged or exhausted this afternoon, though it had been rather a hot day for June.
Christine followed her mother into the room, her arms filled with parcels, her eyes bright with pleasure.
"We've got such a beautiful slate for you, Ferdy," she said, "and a book of animal pictures—outlines—that will be quite easy to copy on a slate, and the man at the shop said it was a very good thing to study them for any one who wanted to try wood-carving."
"Oh, how nice!" said Ferdy eagerly. "Do let me see, Chrissie! And what are those other parcels you've got?"
"Two are from the German confectioner's at Freston—cakes for tea—that nice kind, you know—the fancy curly shape, like the ones in the 'Struwelpeter' pictures."
Ferdy's face expressed great satisfaction.