“That is all I want to know. Now, will you order the carriage to take the child home? No, stop, I think Roger had better fetch a cab.” But at this point Fluff began to cry.
“Oh, I am so tired and hungry,” she sobbed, “and all those dreadful bones in my legs, and the crier not come yet. What is the good of a grandpapa if he has no cakes and things, and on my birthday too!”
Mr. Huntingdon smiled grimly.
“Very well, order the child some refreshment, Erle. After all, she is but a starved bit of a thing; see she has what children like best. Percy, come with me a moment, I want to speak to you.”
“Oh, thank you, grandpapa,” exclaimed Fluff, cheering up at this; and as the door closed on Mr. Huntingdon, Erle knelt down by the child, and wiped the tears from the tired dirty little face that had brought such trouble to him.
And the heart of Fluff was glad within her, for they brought her fruit and cakes and sweet wine on a gold salver, so that she feasted like a king’s daughter or like the Princess Dove herself; and Erle sat by and watched her all the time, though he looked rather grave and unhappy, Fluff thought.
Both of them were rather startled when Mr. Ferrers groped his way toward them. He had been hidden by the curtain, and Erle had not noticed him.
“Mr. Erle, if you will allow me, I should like to take the child home.”
“Of course,” rousing himself, and looking a little bewildered, “we were both to have gone this evening. I had ordered the brougham, but I am afraid now that I must ask you to excuse me. There are circumstances—and,” here Erle paused and bit his lips.
“There is no need for you to go,” returned Raby, sorrowfully; “the bird has flown. This child,” putting his hand lightly on Fluff’s curly head, “told me before you came in that Crystal had gone to America—she started this morning.”