Comethup tried to thank him, but at that moment the puppy had taken him at a mean disadvantage, and was dancing about frantically in his arms, and dabbing a tongue much too large for it against his face, so that speech was difficult. And just then a man came in, taller than the old gentleman, and much more erect; and put the back of his hand quite suddenly up to his forehead, and held it there for a moment, and then brought the hand down smartly with a smack against the side of his leg.
Comethup became vastly interested in a moment; he almost dropped the puppy in his excitement. He knew that only one class of people did that kind of thing; the little maid at home, whose sweetheart was a soldier from Canterbury, had told him all about it. He began to speculate on what wonderful house this could be, where this sort of thing went on quite as a matter of course, and no one seemed to think anything of it. In a vague way he wondered if he could persuade his father to let the little maid move her hand and arm like that whenever she came into the parlour at home; it would be something to look forward to—something to ring the bell for.
The old gentleman ordered tea, and the man who had stood stiffly by the doorway went through the same wonderful performance again and disappeared. Comethup’s curiosity swept away every other consideration.
“Sir,” he said, in an awed voice, “he’s a soldier.”
“He was,” returned the old gentleman, shortly. Then stooping near to the boy, with both hands resting on the table, he asked, with a curious tenderness in his voice, “Where did you get those eyes, boy?”
Comethup did not remember the other occasion on which Captain Garraway-Kyle had said that he had the eyes of his dead mother; he did not even know that this old gentleman was Captain Garraway-Kyle. He looked up innocently, and smiled, and said he didn’t know.
“You got ’em from your mother, boy,” said the captain, almost in a whisper, still looking at him earnestly.
“My mother’s in heaven,” said Comethup.
“True, boy, true,” said the old gentleman, patting him gently on the shoulder and turning away. “That’s very true. Your mother was a saint.”
Comethup had not the least idea what a saint was, but he knew it must be something very good, because the old gentleman looked so serious. The arrival of tea put an end to further conversation, and Comethup looked out eagerly for the man to go through his performance, which he did, to the child’s great delight, as he was leaving the room.