“That little dog of yours looks at me a trifle suspiciously. What can I do to establish his confidence in the honesty of my intentions? Here, jump into my boat, both of you, and we will go off for a little row; it will do us all good, perhaps.”
Dash did indeed hesitate for a moment before trusting himself in the stranger’s boat, but when Philip jumped in eagerly and whistled for him to follow, he seemed to think it must be all right and sprang in after him. The stranger pulled out into the lake with long, strong strokes, which Philip watched with a boy’s admiration for manly strength and comeliness; he was too happy to say very much, but he lost no detail of the beauty of the scene, and the oarsman watched the swift changes of the boy’s delicate, expressive face with keen intentness and real pleasure.
“Where did you get your eyes, my boy?” he asked suddenly; and Philip started and blushed.
“I—don’t know, sir,” he said shyly.
“No, of course you do not,” said the other, laughing. “I only asked for the sake of asking, and because I once saw just such a pair in the head of a dear friend, long since dead, poor fellow!”
He sighed and frowned a little, and in an instant Philip’s shyness vanished in a warm rush of sympathy.
“Oh, I am so sorry!” he said; “was it somebody ye loved very much, sir?”
The gentleman looked up quickly.
“It was, indeed, my little man.”
And then, as though to quit a painful subject, he said abruptly: