THE intense heat of the Indian day was over, and Captain and Mrs. Gidley, with their little son, Dick, were seated on the verandah of their bungalow, enjoying the comparative coolness of the evening. Captain Gidley was a tall, handsome man, whose spare form and tanned skin told of many years lived beneath an eastern sun; his wife was a very pretty woman, and though she had lost the pink roses from her cheeks which she had brought to India with her as a bride, ten years previously, she had not grown languid and idle, but was as bright and cheerful as she had been in her English home, so that her little son, now eight years old, always had a friend and playmate in the mother, who loved him, next to her husband, better than all the world.

Dick was a handsome little fellow, though pale and delicate. The climate was beginning to have bad effects upon his health, and many were the anxious glances his mother and father cast upon him from time to time, after which they would meet each other's eyes, and sigh, realizing that they would not be able to keep him with them much longer in India.

Dick loved his parents dearly. He thought his mother sweeter, and prettier, and cleverer than any of the wives of his father's brother-officers. With the exception of the faithful ayah who had nursed him with the devotion of her class, his mother had been his chief companion during the eight short years of his life; he had never had a thought which he had hidden from her; he had told her all his childish hopes, and she had shared all his pleasures and joys; they had played like two children together, and all the while he had obeyed her slightest wish.

"Dick, always obey your mother!" Captain Gidley had been in the habit of telling his son, and Dick had complied with the willingness of perfect confidence and love.

His affection for his father was mingled with deep admiration, for he considered him the soul of honour and bravery, and had quite made up his mind that when he should be a man grown he would be a soldier too.

It was a merry little group on the verandah that evening. Captain and Mrs. Gidley reclined on deck-chairs, whilst Dick sat on a low stool at his mother's feet, his hands clasped around his knees, occasionally joining in his parents' conversation.

"Blair will be sent home as soon as he is well enough," Captain Gidley remarked presently; "I saw him this afternoon, sat half-an-hour with him, in fact, and he is decidedly better."

"That is good news," Mrs. Gidley replied, whilst Dick looked up at his father quickly, his pale face full of lively interest, for Colonel Blair was the colonel of his father's regiment, and had had a serious illness from which he was now recovering.

"I am so very glad Colonel Blair is better, because I like him so much, and Mrs. Blair will be pleased," the little boy said simply. "Do you mean he is going to England, father? Will Mrs. Blair go too?"

"Yes, my son, most certainly.— What is it, Nanukchund?"

The question was addressed to an Indian servant who had quietly approached them. He was a brown, lean Hindu, clad in native dress, who, when he had delivered a message to his master, withdrew to the far end of the verandah, where he stood in an attitude of unconscious dignity, his arms crossed upon his breast, his dark eyes fixed upon the shadowy landscape.

So accustomed were the Gidleys to Nanukchund that they continued their conversation regardless of his near presence; and the man himself, standing immovable like a statue, showed no signs of hearing a word that was being said.

"I was told to-day that the cry of a 'fau' was heard last night in this neighbourhood," Captain Gidley said by-and-by, "but I do not know if such was really the case."

"Oh Richard!" cried Mrs. Gidley, glancing nervously around, "don't say that! You positively terrify me!"

"What is a 'fau?'" Dick asked, for he had never heard the word before.

"It is a small animal about the size of a cat," Captain Gidley explained; "the natives declare it is always the forerunner of a tiger, but I'm sure I don't know about that."

"You forget, Richard," his wife said seriously. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what, my dear?"

"That before the advent of that tiger—the man-eater you shot before Dick was born—the natives said they heard a 'fau' some nights previously?"

"Did they say so? Why, how stupid of me! I had actually forgotten!"

"Oh, father, do tell me all about the man-eater!" Dick cried, with sparkling eyes.

"You have heard all about it so many times, my son!"

"But I want to hear it again! Do tell it," Dick pleaded in his most coaxing tone, for, like most children, he was never tired of listening to the repetition of a fascinating tale.

The captain shook his head, and declared he was too lazy, whereupon Dick appealed to his mother, and begged her to relate the story.

"Well, dear, I will, if you very much wish it," she responded with an indulgent smile, "although I thoroughly believe you must know it as well as I do. It happened, as you are aware, not long after your father and I were married—just after we had come here to live. Everything was strange to me, and when I heard that a tiger was prowling about the district, and had actually killed several unfortunate natives, you can easily imagine that I was more terrified than I can express. Your father tried to laugh me out of my fears, which he thought were needless; but Nanukchund fully sympathised with me—I think, indeed, he was quite as alarmed as I was, and during your father's daily absences from home kept a careful watch around the place, whilst after dark he even persisted in our having the doors leading on to the verandah shut and bolted, although the heat was almost unendurable just then."

"I had not had much experience of tigers in those days," Captain Gidley interposed, "or I should have known that Nanukchund was wise to insist on caution. I thought it extremely unlikely that 'my lord stripes' would dare to approach our bungalow, although I knew he had worked sad havoc in a native village not far distant; and I actually laughed at Nanukchund when he suggested the advisability of my keeping a loaded gun by my bedside!"

"But I made you take Nanukchund's advice, Richard," his wife said, "and, as it happened, it was most fortunate, most providential, I ought to say, that I did!—Well, Dick, to proceed with the story. One night, some hours after we had gone to bed, we found the heat so intolerable in our room that your father suggested opening the door leading to the verandah for a few minutes. Accordingly he did so, and then made the discovery that Nanukchund was squatting in a corner of the verandah. I heard your father ask him what he was doing, and heard Nanukchund reply that he was on the look-out for the tiger."

"Yes," broke in Captain Gidley, who, although he had declared himself too lazy to tell the tale, could not resist putting in a few words now and then, "and he distinctly objected to my leaving the door open; however, I informed him we could not possibly endure the heat with it shut, and then he took up his position in the doorway, and said he would watch whilst we slept; so I returned to your mother, and told her she need have no fears as to our safety."

"Afterwards," Mrs. Gidley said, as her husband paused, "Nanukchund explained to us that he fell asleep, and was awakened by the sound of a snarling growl. He sprang to his feet, immediately on the defensive, and—it was a moonlight night—saw a huge tiger, only a few yards from him on the verandah, licking his lips, lashing his tail, and evidently contemplating the prospect of a meal. In his sudden fright, Nanukchund uttered a piercing yell, which awoke both your father and me. Your father jumped out of bed and grasped his gun at the same instant that the tiger sprang at poor Nanukchund, who, too, sprang forward, meeting the great beast in its leap. I saw a flash of steel in the moonlight, and heard an awful snarling cry of mingled rage and pain as Nanukchund struck the tiger in the chest with the long-bladed knife he had taken the precaution to have with him; but, although wounded, the animal was not mortally hurt, and struck at Nanukchund with one of his forepaws. Then your father, who had raised his gun and taken careful aim, fired; and in a few minutes the servants were all on the spot, the tiger lay dead in the doorway, and Nanukchund, except for some deep scratches on the chest where the tiger's claws had torn the flesh, was quite unharmed."

"That was a good shot of yours, father!" Dick cried enthusiastically.

"So it was," Captain Gidley replied, with a smile. "The tiger was shot right through the heart. I never took surer aim; and I can truthfully say, was never more frightened in my life! There was no time for reflection; but I was conscious of the full horror of the situation, and as I caught up my gun and took aim, I just cried out to God in my heart to help me—and He did!"

There was a brief silence, which was broken by Dick, who said earnestly,—

"I hope I shall be as good a shot as you, father, when I grow up. I expect every one was very glad to hear the tiger was killed?"

"Yes, very glad, for the brute had been the terror of the neighbourhood for several weeks."

"Go and ask Nanukchund if he thinks the 'fau' has really been heard," Mrs. Gidley said to Dick, who obeyed immediately, and presently returned to his parents reassured upon that point, for Nanukchund had told him the Mem Sahib need not fear. He believed it was only idle gossip about the "fau" having been heard in the district.

"How should you like to go to England, Dick?" Captain Gidley asked suddenly.

"Oh, very much, father! It's lovely in England, isn't it?" the boy asked, looking at his mother, who was fond of talking to him of the land of her birth.

"Yes, dear," she answered quietly, "one can breathe there. The regiment will very likely be ordered home next year, will it not, Richard?" she enquired of her husband.

"Very likely," he replied.

"What fun it will be!" Dick exclaimed gleefully. "Shan't we be busy beforehand packing up! It's jolly on board ship, isn't it?"

"Yes," Captain Gidley assented, "a sea voyage in a good ship is rather a pleasant experience. You ought to go to bed now, Dick; it's past your usual time. Don't dream about the man-eater, though!"

"No," the boy replied with a laugh, "I'll try not to! His skin has made a splendid rug, hasn't it, father? Mrs. Blair said the other day it was the finest tiger-skin she had ever seen! Must I really go to bed? Well, then, good-night!" and he kissed his parents affectionately. "I must go and say good-night to Nanukchund," he added.

They watched him as he exchanged a few words with the Hindoo; then, nodding gaily to them, he disappeared through the doorway leading to his bedroom.

"He is in fine spirits to-night," Captain Gidley said gravely, "but I am not blind to the fact that he daily grows thinner and paler; and several people have remarked it to me lately. The boy is pining, Margaret, and I know you see it as plainly as I do. I have been thinking that we must really send him to England. Mrs. Blair told me to-day that she would be very pleased to undertake the charge of him on the voyage. There is no chance of our returning home till next year, and we run a great risk of losing our boy altogether if we keep him here much longer."

"Oh, Richard, it is cruelly hard to think of parting from him," Mrs. Gidley responded, her usually bright face full of pain, "but we must think of him and his welfare, of course, and not of our own feelings at all," she added quickly.

Whilst his parents were discussing a future for him apart from themselves, Dick was undressing, and having said his prayers, he slipped into bed. He lay awake thinking of the great tiger his father had shot with such faultless aim. No wonder Nanukchund was so devoted to the Captain Sahib who had saved his life! No wonder every one spoke of his father as a brave and gallant soldier! Captain Gidley was a pattern for all that was good and true in his little son's partial eyes; the boy meant to be like him in the years to come, if God would allow him to grow into a strong man fitted to be a soldier; but until then, he reflected, he must be content to learn to be good and obedient, because to obey was a soldier's first duty in life; and he must ask God to give him a brave, fearless spirit.

"I am rather small for my age," Dick thought, as he mentally compared his little fragile form with his father's tall, straight, sinewy figure, "but I suppose I shall get bigger by-and-by. Mother thinks when we go to England I shall grow much faster—I hope so, I'm sure. But even if I don't get very tall I can be a soldier all the same! Captain Blair's quite short, and yet father says he's a fine fellow—I suppose that means he's brave, and not afraid of anything?"

"Who's there?" he cried, as a figure paused in the doorway. "Is it you, mother! Oh no; it's you, Nanukchund! Come and tell me a story, do. I'm not a bit sleepy to-night!"

The Hindu obeyed willingly, for the child was a favourite of his. He had the Mem Sahib's permission to talk to Dick, and accordingly he commenced to relate some wonderful stories of Indian conjurers and their marvellous tricks till Dick's eyes grew misty, Nanukchund's lithe, dark figure became more and more indistinct, and at last faded altogether as the heavy lids drooped, and a restful sleep overcame him.

[CHAPTER II]

BREAKING THE NEWS TO DICK

"YOU have not told him yet."

The speaker was Captain Gidley, who stood on the verandah outside their bungalow. He spoke in an anxious tone, and glanced at his wife uneasily. Brave soldier as he was, he felt an abject coward at that moment at the thought of the parting which must soon take place in his little family circle, for the next boat which sailed from Calcutta to England was to bear his only child across the wide waters to his own and his wife's native land.

"No, I have not told him yet," she replied to her husband's question. "Dozens of times I have been on the point of speaking to him on the subject; and then my heart has failed me—and—and—" Mrs. Gidley broke down completely at this point, and, clinging to her husband's arm, wept without restraint.

"Listen to me, Margaret," he said tenderly, "you are run down and out of health yourself, and I really think you must make up your mind to go to England with the boy!"

"And leave you!" she cried reproachfully, hastily drying her eyes. "Oh, Richard, that is impossible!"

"Not at all! We should not be parted for long. The regiment's ordered home next year; and if you will consent to take Dick home—"

"No, no! I cannot think of it! I shall remain with you most certainly! Did I not tell you ten years ago, when we were first married, in the words of Ruth of old, 'Whither thou goest I will go!' And do you think I did not understand then what that might mean some day? No, our little Dick must go to England alone, and Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann will be good to him for my sake first of all, and later, when they grow to know him better, for his own. Dear Richard, don't try to dissuade me from remaining in India with you. Indeed, I have quite, quite made up my mind, and to-morrow, all being well, I will tell Dick!"

"The boy ought to be told something of his relations, Margaret!"

"Yes," she agreed; "I think he should be told about your father."

"Not what a hard, unforgiving man he is, and that he has refused the shelter of his home to his grandson—my son!"

"No, dear, not that, certainly; only that Sir Richard lives near Holton, and that he is your father."

"There is no need to tell him anything else."

Captain Gidley heaved a sigh of relief. The fact was, his father, Sir Richard Gidley, had never forgiven him for marrying the orphan niece of the village doctor, and would have disinherited him if that had been possible; but his property was strictly heirship, and he could not will it out of the direct line. However, he had refused to make his son an additional allowance on his marriage, so that Captain Gidley and his wife were very poorly off for their position. When the Indian climate began to tell on the health of their little son, and they had realised they would not be able to keep him with them much longer, Captain Gidley had written to Sir Richard asking him to make a home for the boy, which request had been curtly refused. Then Mrs. Gidley had written to her aunt and uncle at Holton, the village on the south coast of England where she had spent her youth, and in due course received an answer from the former which ran as follows:—

"No. 8 FORE STREET, HOLTON,"

"May 5, 189—."

"MY DEAR NIECE,—I am writing immediately on receipt of your letter

to tell you how grieved we are to hear that Dick is so unwell. I fear,

my dear Margaret, that you have no choice but to bravely face

the trouble which presents itself to most English mothers in India—

that God will call upon you to give up your boy to the charge of those

who are strangers to him at an age when he most wants his mother's care.

Of course I agree with you that your place is with your husband,

at any rate as long as your health will stand the climate."

"I am not surprised that Sir Richard has refused to take little Dick,

though your uncle Theophilus and I agree that your husband was right

in applying to the child's grandfather first; but since the old man

declines to accept the precious charge, we gladly offer a home to our

dear great-nephew. It is many years since we had a child in the house—

not since you were one yourself, and we feel quite excited at the

prospect of welcoming your little son! Need I tell you we will do

our best for his welfare and happiness? Send him to us, and, please God,

Holton air will soon make him strong and well. Your uncle, Theophilus,

is in good health; but I think he finds the night journeys more

troublesome than he used to, though he never complains. Except for a

touch of rheumatism occasionally, I am very well myself. We have much

to be thankful for!"

"You will be able to picture your dear boy in your old home. I do not

think the place has much changed since you left. God bless you,

dear Margaret; may He keep and console you and your husband in your

coming trial, and may He assist us to take good care of your little son."

"With much love from your Uncle Theophilus and myself, and kind regards

to Captain Gidley, believe me, my dear niece, I am, as ever,

your affectionate aunt,"

"MARY ANN WARREN."

Mrs. Gidley had no fears anent the welcome Dick would receive from the writer of this letter, for she well knew from experience how good and kind was Aunt Mary Ann, who had stood in the place of a mother to her in her own young days, and who, though she had never married herself, and had many old-maidish ways, yet understood children, and could enter into all their sorrows and joys. No people in Holton were better liked or more respected than Dr. Warren and his sister—Mrs. Gidley's Uncle Theophilus and Aunt Mary Ann.

"Never speak of sending me home with Dick again," Mrs. Gidley said earnestly to her husband. "I shall be perfectly satisfied to know he is with Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus. And do not trouble because your father refused to have the boy," she added. "Of course, I would not have said a word against Dick's going to the Manor House if Sir Richard had wished it; but I cannot help feeling glad matters are as they are."

At that moment a voice was heard calling, "Mother, mother, is that you?"

"Dick is awake!" Mrs. Gidley exclaimed hurriedly. "Shall I go in and tell him now?"

"Yes, do so, my dear," her husband answered. "He must be told sooner or later, and he ought to have a little while given him to get accustomed to the idea of separation from us."

Captain Gidley remained where he was whilst his wife passed through the doorway which led from the verandah into her little boy's room, her heart appealing to God to show her the best method of breaking the news she had to impart. She found Dick sitting up in bed; and she chided him gently as she rearranged his pillows and smoothed the light counterpane.

"You ought to be asleep, Dick! You will be so tired and languid to-morrow!"

"It's so hot, mother!" he cried. "I can't get to sleep, and I thought I heard your voice outside—father's too!"

"Yes, father's too!" By the subdued glimmer of the night-light she noticed the boy's face was flushed, and his eyes shining feverishly.

She sat down on the edge of the bed whilst he flung his arms around her neck, and laid his cheek against hers. "Why cannot you sleep, Dick?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know, mother, but I can't! I've kept on saying my prayers—'Our Father,' and 'Gentle Jesus'—over and over again; but the sandy man won't come to my eyes! It's so dreadfully hot!"

"Yes, dear, so it is! Do you know what father and I have been talking about? Of course you cannot guess, but I am going to tell you! We've been speaking of sending you to England, to the dear old aunt and uncle who brought me up. They will be so good to you, Dick; and you will grow a strong healthy boy, please God! Colonel Blair and his wife are going home soon—you know he has sick leave—and they have promised to take charge of you on the voyage. Then, next year, I hope your father and I may be returning to England, too; and think how joyful we three shall be to meet again!"

Mrs. Gidley had spoken rapidly, in tones which she had tried to render cheerful; but her voice faltered as she concluded the sentence, whilst the clasp of Dick's arms around her neck tightened. He made no reply for a moment; but at last he burst forth,—

"Mother, mother, you don't mean it, you can't! I am not going to leave you! You are not going to send me away from you and father? Oh, mother, say you don't mean that? Oh, I don't want to go to England! I want to stay here with you, and then next year we can all go to England together! Oh, please, say you don't mean what you said!"

"I cannot say that, for it would not be true. We want you to go to England because if you remain longer in India you will be a sickly, unhealthy child, and both father and I hope you will grow into a strong man. How often have I heard you say that when you grow up you mean to be a soldier? Well, a soldier must not be a weakling, and a soldier must learn to do his duty! It is your duty now to be a brave boy, and not to make things harder for father and me than they are already. We would rather keep you with us; but it is our plain duty to send you to England, and it is your plain duty to go willingly. You will find a happy home awaiting you, and God will be with you, my darling, always," and Mrs. Gidley mingled her tears with her little son's, whilst he sobbed bitterly.

Presently, however, he began to realise how much he was adding to his mother's distress, and manfully sought to subdue his grief. He was facing sorrow for the first time in his life; but though his little frame was puny at present, he owned a brave heart of his own, and by-and-by he whispered lovingly,—

"Don't cry any more, mother, and I'll try not to!"

She kissed him, and then, when both were calmer, she began to talk of her childhood's home in the little English sea-side village. Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus were familiar names to his ears; but presently she spoke to him of his grandfather, of whose existence he had never heard before.

"Why, mother!" he exclaimed, "do you mean that my father has a father?"

"Yes," she said, smiling at his way of putting it. "He is a very old gentleman, and he lives at the Manor House, which is not far from Holton. His name is Sir Richard Gidley. You were called after your father and him. I think he must be a very lonely old man now, because he has only servants to look after him. His wife, your grandmother, died many years ago, and your aunt—Aunt Arabella—is a widow, living in London. I do not know if you will see her or not, but you will be sure to see your grandfather. You must treat him with great respect, and, if you find him crotchety and cross, don't mind; at the same time you must not be afraid of him—you need never be afraid of any one so long as you do nothing to be ashamed of; remember that!"

"I will remember," the boy replied obediently, "but I hope I shall not go to England very soon. I don't think I much like the thought of a grandfather! And a Sir, too! I suppose he is a very grand man indeed?"

Mrs. Gidley made no direct reply; instead, she spoke of the time when she and her husband hoped to join their little son in England.

"You'll be a good boy, will you not?" she questioned. "And you'll obey Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus? I know you will when you think how they loved your mother when she was a little girl. If you find Aunt Mary Ann is fussy, you must remember she has a heart of gold, full of kindness and sympathy for others. And now, my dear boy, we have talked long enough, and you must go to sleep."

"Yes," Dick replied, "I will try."

After all, he thought, the day of his departure for England had not arrived yet, and, like most children, he had the happy knack of dismissing unpleasant thoughts from his mind. Why think of separation when his mother was still with him? Therefore he suffered her to kiss him good-night, and, whilst she sat watching him, fell asleep with his hand in hers. So Captain Gidley found the two when he peeped anxiously into the room later.

Mrs. Gidley gently relinquished the boy's hand, and, crossing to her husband's side, slipped her arm through his. Together they approached the bed, and stood looking on their sleeping child.

"Well?" Captain Gidley whispered.

"I have told him," she replied. "He was terribly upset at the thought of leaving us at first, but, on the whole, he bore the news better than I expected. I appealed to his sense of duty, and that told; he is a true soldier's son! But I did not tell him how soon the parting will be. Oh, Richard, it is hard!"

"It is," he agreed huskily, "more especially as he is our only child."

"Let us pray for him," his wife said gently. "Let us ask God to take care of him when he will be far away from us!"

So husband and wife knelt down by the little bed, and commended their darling to their Father in Heaven; and though their hearts were still sore, they arose comforted.

"He is the child of many prayers," Mrs. Gidley said softly, as they quietly left the room, "and we must be content to place him in God's hands."

"It is harder for you than for me, Margaret," Captain Gidley replied tenderly. "Like so many other mothers out here, you have had to choose between husband and child. I trust we may not be separated from our dear boy long!"

[CHAPTER III]

DICK'S FIRST DAY IN ENGLAND

IT was a perfect evening towards the end of June, as Miss Warren sat at the sitting-room window of her brother's house at Holton, anxiously looking down the village street. Her busy fingers were employed in knitting a scarlet sock—one of a pair intended for the little great-nephew she was expecting that day. It was a favourite boast of Miss Warren's that she never allowed herself to be driven by time; so, when she had heard that Dick Gidley was really coming, she had immediately commenced to make preparations for his arrival, and had begun to knit socks for him at once.

"I do hope they'll fit," she thought. "I expect they will, for he's not likely to be bigger than most boys of his age. Poor little fellow! How he must have felt the parting with his parents!—and I know it must almost have broken his mother's heart! She was always of such an affectionate disposition!—Half-past five, I declare! I hope nothing has gone wrong!—Dear me; how foolish I am! The trains on this line are often late, and Theophilus never drives fast!"

Miss Warren was a little woman with a brisk manner, and a round face blooming with health and good-humour. Her trim figure was neatly attired in a grey alpaca gown, fastened at the throat with a big brooch which contained two twists of hair—her mother's and father's—whilst, depending from her neck, she wore a fine long gold chain, to which was attached the watch in her waist-belt.

Presently she laid down her knitting, and, rising from her seat, ventured to put her head outside the open window to get a better view of the street. No one was within sight, and not a sound was to be heard but the gentle murmur of the sea.

"Every one is having tea, I suppose," Miss Warren reflected. "Dear me; I hope they will come soon! I have not felt so excited for years!"

The preceding day her brother had gone to London to meet little Dick; and this morning she had received a telegram from him, saying the vessel had arrived, and she might expect him and her nephew by the train reaching Holton about five o'clock in the afternoon. She had sent the doctor's gig to the station, had seen that a substantial meal was set in readiness for the travellers, and now she was literally on the tiptoe of expectation, her ears strained in hopes of catching the sounds of carriage-wheels, her bright dark eyes, which had smiled on the world for fifty years, and were no dimmer on that account, peering down the narrow village street.

At last she pulled her head in quickly, and, hastening to the front door, opened it wide and took her position on the doorstep just as the doctor's gig appeared in sight. Her brother was driving, and by his side was a little, pale-faced, brown-eyed boy, to whom he was evidently pointing out certain objects of interest, as Firefly, the stout cob, proceeded leisurely homewards.

"How slowly Theophilus drives!" Miss Warren exclaimed. "And that poor child must be so weary, too! How white he looks! Oh, Theophilus, here you are at last!"

The gig drew up, and the doctor proceeded to alight. He gave the reins to the groom—who had walked from the station, and had covered the ground as fast as Firefly on account of the road being all uphill—and then lifted down the little stranger.

"Welcome to your new home," he said, as he set Dick on the doorstep. "This lady, my boy, is your Aunt Mary Ann!"

"Who is more glad than she can express to see you!" Miss Warren cried heartily, as she kissed Dick and led him into the house. "Come into the sitting-room and let me look at you. Dear me, what white cheeks! Never mind, you'll soon grow rosy at Holton! Ah, I see a look of your dear mother in your face!"

"Do you?" Dick said, his countenance glowing with pleasure. He had been feeling very low-spirited, for in saying good-bye to Colonel and Mrs. Blair, under whose kind care he had travelled to England, it had seemed as though he was severing the last tie between the old life and the new; but he could not help brightening at being told he was like his mother.

"Yes," Miss Warren nodded, "especially when you smile. I shall write and tell her so. Oh, my dear boy, I'm so glad to see you! Your uncle and I are pleased and proud that you are going to make your home with us! To-morrow you and I will have a nice long chat together, and I will tell you about your mother when she was a little girl. You will like to hear that, I am sure!"

"Oh, yes," Dick answered earnestly, "indeed I shall!"

"I expect you are very tired, are you not, and hungry, too?"

"A little tired," he acknowledged, "but not very hungry."

"Oh, you may not think so, but I am sure you must be! Come with me, and I will show you your own room; it is close to mine."

Dick followed Miss Warren upstairs into a small bedroom, which, she informed him, had once been his mother's. He was pleased to hear that, and looked at his companion with grateful eyes, whereupon she impulsively kissed him again, for his mother's sake this time, she said.

Drawing him to the window, which looked upon an old-fashioned garden where vegetables and flowers both grew in profusion, she pointed out what a fine view was to be seen. The country Was very beautiful, and Dick uttered an exclamation of admiration as his eyes rested on green meadows, woods in the luxuriant leafage of June, and a glimpse of blue sea on which several small vessels were sailing.

"What brown sails those ships have," he remarked. "I never saw sails that colour before!"

"They are trawlers—fishing-boats. The sails are always that rich, red-brown shade. You are fond of the sea, my dear?"

"Very fond of it, Aunt Mary Ann. I am glad Holton is by the sea."

"I hope you will be very happy here, Dick; we shall try to make you so. Ah, here's your uncle! Well, Theophilus?"

"Dick's luggage will be brought from the station on a hand truck, by-and-by," the doctor remarked. "You can come to my room and use my brush and comb, if you like, Dick."

Dick followed his uncle, whilst Miss Warren went downstairs and rang for tea. Presently the others joined her, and they sat down at the table.

Dick noticed that Aunt Mary Ann did most of the talking, whilst Uncle Theophilus sat by and listened, only now and then putting in a word.

Uncle Theophilus was a big man, as slow in manner as in speech. He was some years his sister's senior, and looked more than his age. There was something remarkably attractive in his grave, clean-shaven face, and the smile which occasionally lit up his grey eyes was peculiarly gentle and sweet. When the little boy had slipped his fingers into the doctor's large hand that morning, he had felt instinctively, with youth's quick perception, that he had found a friend; and during the journey from London to Holton, though they had not talked much, Dick had been strengthened in his first impression that Uncle Theophilus was a person to be trusted.

Miss Warren was much distressed to find that Dick had a very poor appetite; and was loud in her exclamations of disappointment because he appeared incapable of appreciating the many good things before him.

"A little more ham, Dick?—No! Then have some cake?—No! Some bread and butter?—No, again! Why, you have not had enough to satisfy a robin!" she exclaimed, when Dick politely but firmly declined to eat any more. "Theophilus, you must give him a tonic! The poor child has no appetite whatever!"

"Fresh English breezes will be the best tonics for him, I expect," the doctor replied quietly; "however, we shall see! I shall prescribe that he keeps out-of-doors as much as possible!"

"But you'll give him some medicine, won't you?" Miss Warren asked anxiously.

"I think not. He shall have some drives with me. How would you like that, Dick?"

"Oh, that would be splendid!" the little boy cried, his cheeks flushing with pleasure. "What is your horse called, Uncle Theophilus?"

"Firefly."

"The laziest animal in the world!" Miss Warren declared, shaking her head at her brother. "You know it's true, Theophilus, and it's all your fault! You indulge him, and let him go his own pace. He's getting so fat that soon he'll be a laughing-stock for the whole country-side!"

The doctor smiled good-temperedly, and made no reply, doubtless because he knew his sister was right. After tea he went out to see a patient, and Dick was left to the tender mercies of Aunt Mary Ann. Then his luggage arrived and was duly unpacked. His mother had sent several presents to her aunt and uncle, and Miss Warren was simply delighted.

"How kind of dear Margaret!" she said. "These sofa cushions are lovely—worked in silver and gold thread by the natives, I suppose. Come into the drawing-room, Dick, and let us see how the cushions will look on the sofa."

The drawing-room was not nearly such a cheerful apartment as the sitting-room, although it looked out into the pretty, old-fashioned garden. The furniture was heavy, and all the chairs were draped with brown Holland coverings; a piano occupied one corner of the room, but it was seldom touched, now-a-days, except, as Dick afterwards found out, on Sundays, when his aunt was sometimes tempted to play a chant or a hymn-tune.

Miss Warren arranged the cushions on the sofa, and seemed satisfied with the effect; then, seeing how tired Dick was looking, she suggested that he should go to bed; so he accordingly went upstairs to his own room. She came to visit him after he was in bed, and asked him if he had said his prayers; being satisfied on that point, she fussed around the apartment, seeing everything was in order, and then kissed him affectionately, bidding him soon sleep like a good boy. Dick heard her go downstairs ere he buried his head beneath the clothes and sobbed as though his heart would break. He was so dreadfully lonely, poor little boy; but he would not for anything have had Aunt Mary know that he was crying. She was as kind as his mother had said she would be; but still, she was a stranger to him. On board ship he had had Colonel and Mrs. Blair, whom he had known all his short life, to console him, and he had felt saying good-bye to them a great deal. He had not liked to tell Aunt Mary Ann how sore his heart was, nor how miserable he felt.

He went over again the parting with his parents on that memorable day weeks before, when they had been obliged to leave him on the homeward-bound vessel. How he had clung to them weeping; how pale his father had looked, and how his mother had scarcely been able to tear herself away from his embrace. He shut his eyes, and fancied he heard their voices; his father's saying, "Good-bye, Dick; be a brave boy! God bless you, my little son!" and his mother's, "Don't forget us, Dick!" As though it was possible that he could ever forget them! He was too young to know that that involuntary cry had come from her aching heart, prompted by the fear which haunted her that Sir Richard Gidley might try to win her son's affection from her—a fear she had never breathed to her husband, or to any one but God.

Dick cried till he felt quite exhausted, and then lay perfectly still, listening to the sounds which reached his room—his aunt's voice downstairs, the footsteps of passers-by in the street outside. By-and-by he heard the front door open and shut; and presently, slow, deliberate steps mounted the stairs; the door opened quietly, and the doctor entered, bearing a lighted candle in his hand, which he placed on the dressing-table.

"I have come to say good-night to you, Dick," he said in his deep pleasant voice, as he seated himself in a chair by the bedside. Then he took one of the child's hot hands in his, and breathed— "A-ah!"

Dick was ashamed to be caught crying; but Uncle Theophilus tactfully refrained from remarking upon his very evident distress; instead, he spoke of the drive he meant to take on the morrow, and asked Dick if he would bear him company.

"Oh, yes, please!" Dick answered. "How kind of you to think of taking me!"

"We must be friends, you and I," the doctor remarked cordially, "for we shall see a great deal of each other, you know!"

"Oh, yes!" Dick agreed. His breath was still coming in little gasping sobs. "I am very sorry," he added apologetically, "I—I can't help it—and you and Aunt Mary Ann are so kind, too!"

"Never mind, my boy, I think I understand. Life is very hard sometimes, Dick; I've found that myself; but a stout heart and a firm trust in One above help us along many a rugged path. Your mother has taught you that?"

"Yes, Uncle Theophilus. I'm afraid I'm a big coward; but I do want to be brave. I should like to be a soldier, when I'm a man, like father."

"You can be a soldier now, if you like—a soldier of the Lord Jesus Christ. You can fight on His side for truth against falsehood, for love against hate, for holiness against sin. You need not wait until you are a man to be a soldier of Christ; the smallest, feeblest child may fight under His banner, and win a crown of life!"

"Oh, that's exactly what mother says!"

"Ah!" the doctor's grave face broke into a smile. "You must always remember your mother's teaching, Dick. I think if she was here now, she would say you ought to go to sleep—so I'll say good-night."

"Good-night," Dick responded. The sound of tears was gone from his voice, and he spoke quite cheerfully. "It was awfully good of you to think of coming to see me, Uncle Theophilus; and I'm so glad you did, though I didn't want you to see what a baby I am."

"Oh, I'm not going to tell any one, Dick, rest assured upon that point. We all feel life is a little too much for us sometimes, and then the fighting spirit rises within us, and we determine, by God's help, to overcome our sorrows and difficulties. I suppose that was the case with you to-night, moping here by yourself. I hope I have succeeded in raising your British pluck?"

"Yes; I think you have," Dick replied, smiling. "I'm not going to mope any longer; I'm going to sleep, instead." And he was as good as his word.

[CHAPTER IV]

DICK'S GRANDFATHER

THE following morning Dick awoke refreshed and in better spirits. The sun was shining brightly into his bedroom window, and the sparrows were twittering beneath the eaves of the roof, where many feathered families dwelt; whilst a cock was crowing in a farm-yard not far distant, in answer to a smaller, shriller voice which seemed close by, and which, Dick afterwards learnt, belonged to a bantam, a pet of Miss Warren's.

Dick dressed quickly, and, having said his prayers, went downstairs into the hall. There his attention was caught by a tall, eight-day clock in a black oak case. It had a brass face, on the top of which was the model of a ship with sails unfurled, rocking automatically at every tick of the pendulum. Dick was quite fascinated by this novel sight, and stood gazing at it with round, astonished eyes until Miss Warren came upon the scene.

"Oh, my dear boy!" she cried, greeting him with a hearty kiss. "To think of your getting up without being called! Theophilus said I was to let you sleep on, and not disturb you! How do you feel this morning? Better?"

"I am quite well, thank you, Aunt Mary Ann. I was all right last night, only rather tired. What a beautiful clock! Does that ship always rock?"

"Yes, certainly; every time the clock ticks the ship rocks; it is sailing towards eternity, and, though it seems to make no progress, it is journeying on all the same. That's the way with time! Your dear mother used to sit on the stairs, when she was a tiny child, and watch the old ship sailing; it was like a companion to her."

Dick was deeply interested. He had never seen such a wonderful clock before, and he wondered his mother had not thought of telling him about it. Presently the doctor came down, and looked pleased to see the little boy evidently so much brighter. Then they went into the sitting-room, and breakfast being in readiness for them, took their places at the table.

"Theophilus, do you think Sir Richard has heard of Dick's arrival yet?" Miss Warren inquired, as she passed her brother his cup of coffee.

"I should say not," the doctor replied, "since Dick has only been a few hours in Holton. Sir Richard will no doubt see by to-day's newspaper that the vessel arrived in safety."

"Oh, and do you think he will call to-day?" Miss Warren asked eagerly, her face full of excitement, her bright eyes fixed on her brother's face.

"Impossible to say. He may, or he may wait to hear from us that Dick is here. However, I shall write a note to him after breakfast, and send it to the Manor House at once. I do not know how he will act; possibly he may call."

"Of course, that would be the right course for him to take," Miss Warren remarked. "Are you looking forward to seeing your grandfather, Dick?"

"Yes, Aunt Mary Ann," the little boy answered. He was very curious to meet this relation of his, of whose existence he had not been aware till lately. He had no means of guessing why his parents had not spoken to him of Sir Richard Gidley until they had been about to send him to England. He knew they must have had a reason for not having done so, and he felt decidedly puzzled.

"I don't know much about him," he proceeded, "except that he is my grandfather. Mother says he is a lonely old man, and that I must not be afraid of him. Why should I be afraid of him?" he asked, looking questioningly from one face to the other.

"There is no reason, Dick," Dr. Warren answered. "Sir Richard is often gruff in his manner, and speaks out sharply. No doubt your mother remembered that. She never knew him well herself, because your parents went abroad directly they were married. I daresay Sir Richard will ask you to go to the Manor House, and you will like that, will you not?"

"I don't know, Uncle Theophilus. Is it a very grand place?"

"Not now; for Sir Richard does not keep it up as he used. Still, it is a fine old house with many objects of interest about it. Several of the rooms are shut-up, I believe, as your grandfather employs only a few women-servants now-a-days. Are you fond of pictures? Yes? Well there's a picture-gallery at the Manor House where you will find likenesses of many generations of your ancestors."

"What are ancestors?" Dick asked, hoping he was not showing great ignorance by the question.

"Those from whom you are descended—those of your race who lived before you. For instance, your grandfather is your ancestor. Do you understand?"

"I think so," Dick answered thoughtfully.

After breakfast the doctor devoted an hour to the patients who came to his surgery for advice. When the last had gone, he was ready to start on his morning round; and Dick, much to his delight, found he was to accompany him as had been promised.

As they drove down the narrow street the villagers came to their doors to gaze with curious, interested eyes at the stranger.

"Why, Uncle Theophilus, you know every one! Dick exclaimed as the doctor nodded to one person, then to another.

"You see, Dick, I have lived most of my life in this place, and I know every man, woman, and child for miles around. That's Cripps, the grocer, standing there in the doorway of his shop. That's the post-office, that little house with the porch all covered with honeysuckle; and there's Miss Tidy, the post-mistress, peeping out over the wire blind."

"Miss Tidy," Dick echoed, laughing. "What a funny name, and what a funny face!"

He spoke truly, for Miss Tidy was the possessor of a wide mouth, a tip-tilted nose, and a pair of round, green eyes that took notice of every one and everything. The post-mistress had not a great deal of work at Holton, so, often, when she found time hanging heavy on her hands, she employed herself with business concerning her neighbours.

The doctor required some stamps, so he drew up in front of the post-office; whereupon Miss Tidy came running out.

"Don't get down, I beg, Dr. Warren!" she cried, in a high, somewhat shrill voice. "What can I get for you? Stamps? Postal orders? A lovely day, is it not? Is this young gentleman the one you've been expecting from India?"

"Yes," Dr. Warren answered briefly, whilst Dick flushed as the sharp green eyes of the post-mistress scanned his face. "I will trouble you for a shilling's worth of penny stamps, if you please."

Miss Tidy retired, and presently returned with the stamps, which she handed to the doctor.

"I don't think he's much like his mother," she said, as she stood with her head on one side regarding Dick. "He's a Gidley, every inch of him, as far as appearance goes. Don't you think so, Dr. Warren?"

But the doctor would not commit himself to an opinion on the point, and merely nodded as he drove off.

"Isn't she rather an inquisitive sort of person, Uncle Theophilus?" Dick questioned.

"She is," his uncle admitted dryly; "but she means well," he added, after a moment's reflection, "and that's saying a good deal in her favour."

How beautiful everything was! How fresh and invigorating was the salt sea air! The hedges were full of wild roses, some delicate pink in hue, others china white, the latter endowed with the sweeter perfume, as though the Great Creator had given compensation to the pale flowers for their lack of colour by adding to their scent. It certainly was a perfect summer's day! Occasionally, as they drove along, Dick caught glimpses of the peaceful sea, which reflected the intense blue of the sky; then the tears rushed to his eyes as he thought how many, many hundreds of miles of water stretched between him and the mother and father he loved so well. But he fought with the emotion which threatened to overcome him; so that Uncle Theophilus never guessed how often his little nephew was nearly reduced to tears.

"I have enjoyed the drive so much," Dick said gratefully, as Firefly turned homewards; "thank you for letting me come with you, Uncle Theophilus."

"I shall be glad of your company another day," was the doctor's reply, "and by-and-by I will teach you to drive."

Arrived at home, Dick was astonished to find a carriage, drawn by a pair of sleek grey horses, in front of the doctor's house. He looked at his uncle for an explanation.

"I think your grandfather must be here," Dr. Warren said quietly. "Come with me, Dick. I suppose your aunt is entertaining Sir Richard in the drawing-room."

Thither they accordingly repaired, and found Miss Warren in conversation with a tall, fierce-looking old gentleman who was seated in an easy-chair.

"Ah, Sir Richard, I thought you would soon be here to see your grandson," the doctor remarked easily. "Dick, my boy, this is Sir Richard Gidley, your grandfather."

Dick advanced towards the old gentleman till he stood directly in front of him; then he looked him full in the face in silence for a moment, noticing how stern was his expression, and how his white moustache bristled at the ends.

"How do you do, grandfather?" said Dick politely after this brief scrutiny of the other's countenance. "I hope you are very well."

He held out his hand, which his grandfather took in silence. The old man surveyed the boy critically from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, then he exclaimed, "Humph!"

Miss Warren, who appeared nervous and ill at ease, flushed a trifle angrily, and was about to speak, when her brother anticipated her by saying,—

"Dick has been in poor health, as I believe you have been informed, Sir Richard, therefore you must not be disappointed if he appears delicate. He will be a different boy in a few month's time, you will see."

"Did I say I was disappointed?" snapped Sir Richard, evidently displeased that his face had betrayed his thought.

"No; but you looked it," the doctor retorted bluntly.

"You are eight years old, I think," Sir Richard said, turning his attention to his grandson again. "You don't look it. Your father was inches taller at your age."

"Oh, I shall grow away now I'm in England," Dick replied hopefully. "Father said he expected I should be grown out of his knowledge before we meet again." A slight mist crossed the brown eyes for a minute but was winked away. "When I came into the room just now I thought I had seen you before," he continued; "but of course I never had. I know what made me think so, though. I see it now."

"What do you see?" asked Sir Richard curiously.

"Why, that you're like father! Your eyes are like his, only different in the way they look; and you speak like him, too—only not quite the same!"

"That's not a very lucid explanation," Sir Richard said, with an involuntary smile; "but it would be strange if there was no likeness between me and my son," he added, a pleased look creeping over his stern face.

"Ah, now you're more like him!" Dick cried, his pale countenance lighting up with pleasure. "I'm so glad you are! I shall like you so much better—"

"You are very fond of your father?" Sir Richard interrupted questioningly.

"Yes," Dick answered, "indeed I am! When I grow up I mean to be a brave soldier like he is!"

"You would not be a Gidley if you were a coward!" the old man declared. "You come from a fighting race!"

The look of disappointment on his face had given way to one of interest. He turned to the doctor, and asked if it was intended the boy should go to school. "Not for the present," Dr. Warren answered, shaking his head; "his parents would rather have his health set up first, and I think they are wise. There is nothing really amiss with him; he is merely suffering from the effects of the Indian climate."

Sir Richard nodded, and appeared relieved. He glanced from the sister to the brother, and after a moment's hesitation, said,—

"I suppose you will neither of you raise any objection to the boy's coming to see me? When I declined the responsibility of looking after him, I of course did not mean he was not to come near me. Will you allow him to spend to-morrow at the Manor House?"

"Certainly, Sir Richard," Dr. Warren agreed. "You would like to go, would you not, Dick?"

"Ye-s," Dick replied doubtfully. "Didn't you want to look after me, grandfather? Well, I'm glad, because I think I'd rather be here with Aunt Mary Ann and Uncle Theophilus!"

There was an awkward pause after this very frank avowal, and Sir Richard grew almost purple with indignation. At length he exclaimed caustically,—

"It's evident you have not been brought up to have a very good opinion of your grandfather!"

"Are you angry?" Dick enquired wonderingly. "I never heard of you at all until the night mother said I was to go to England, then she told me about you!"

"And what she told you did not make you long to see me, I suppose?" sneered Sir Richard.

"She only said that you were a very lonely old man, and that I must treat you with great respect, and not be afraid of you," Dick said, looking more and more surprised as he noticed his grandfather's anger, which appeared to him quite unwarranted. "I have treated you with respect, haven't I?" he asked anxiously; "And I'm not afraid of you!" he added as an after-thought.

Sir Richard looked searchingly at the child's open countenance; then the anger slowly died from his face, and he smiled. There was something very straightforward about this grandson of his which he could not but admire; and it amused him that the boy had frankly said he felt no fear of him. A great many people were afraid of Sir Richard Gidley—afraid of rousing his temper, which was harsh and unforgiving, and afraid of the cruel, cutting tongue which was his favourite weapon, and which he never scrupled to use to his own advantage. His household trembled before him; his daughter, when she visited him, never dared cross his will in any way; the villagers stood in awe of him; but this pale-faced, delicate-looking boy stood boldly before him, and declared he was not afraid of him!

"I am not angry," he said, "or I should not want you to come and see me to-morrow. I shall send the carriage for you at twelve o'clock, and it will take you back in the evening. Will that arrangement suit you?" he enquired, turning to Miss Warren.

Sir Richard's grandson

"Oh!" he cried excitedly, "we're having such fun!"

Sir Richard's Grandson

or

A Soldier's Son

By

ELEANORA H. STOOKE.

Author of

"The Hermit's Cave," "Rose Cottage," "A Little Town Mouse,"

"Little Gem," etc.

London:

GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE

AND EDINBURGH

List of Illustrations.

CONTENTS