“‘O I don’t say that,’ said he. ‘I don’t dislike the sight of you, Miss Lois; but I must have you searched at the door. Keep this boy quiet, now, Mrs. Meadow; and don’t stay too long; or take him with you.’
“The boy was quiet enough now. While Mr. Swift had been speaking he had raised himself from the floor, half up, and had stopped sobbing, and was looking at Long-Ears and gently touching his curly head; who, on his part, was lapping the milk with an eagerness as if he had wanted it for some time. Norman’s tears fell yet, but they fell quietly. By the time the little dog had finished the milk they did not fall at all. Till then nobody said anything.
“‘Come for it every morning again, my child,’ said Mrs. Meadow, softly;—‘I’ll give it to you. What a dear little fellow he is! I don’t wonder you love him. He shall have milk enough.’
“Norman looked up gratefully, and with a little bit of a smile.
“‘You don’t look very strong, my boy,’ said Mrs. Meadow. ‘You don’t feel right well, do you?’
“He shook his head, as if it was a matter beyond his understanding.
“‘Are you tired?’
“His eyes gave token of understanding that.
“‘Yes, I’m tired. People are not tired up there, are they?’