who did not react to the size of a tip. The Little Lady was one of the first to discover and to recognize the "Stephen" in Sorrell. He carried out her chair cushions; Roland had told her his history; to her Stephen was very much a person.
"I wonder if you would grant me a favour, madam?"
She liked the dignity with which he managed to invest his job.
"What is it, Stephen?"
"My boy wants your autograph."
"Well,—if you will bring his book."
"The fact is—he wants to collect it in person."
"Tell him to come. Tea time. I invite him to tea with us."
"It is very good of you, madam."
So, Christopher came to tea with Ethel and Duncan, and sat on a green garden chair under one of the chestnuts, and was fed on raspberry jam and iced cakes, and gazed upon the Little Lady with the eyes of a boy's adoration. He was shy without being awkward. It was plain that he thought her to be the most wonderful creature in all the world, just as wonderful as she was in the "Pictures." He fell in love with her; she was of more significance than the cakes.
The Little Lady soon had him talking in his wise and rather deliberate way, for Christopher never chattered. He was a silent and watchful child.
"I hear you are going to be a doctor."
"Yes,—I've decided"
"And what made you want?"
Christopher coloured and looked at her with the full candour of his serious eyes.
"You."
"Me? But—how?"
"Well,—you see, everybody wanted you to get well, and Sir Magnus Ord was the only man who could get you well. He can do things. It must be great to be able to do things like that—when everybody else is feeling—just—helpless."
"So you want to be a second Sir Magnus Ord?"
"Well,—I don't suppose I shall be such a great surgeon,—but I should like to mend people."
"People like me?" she asked, with a gleam of the eyes.
"Sometimes,"—and he added quietly, "that would make up for the others."
