‘But I’ve never eaten so much before,’ said Lucian, refusing his host’s pressing entreaty to have another slice off the breast, or a bit of cold ham. ‘I was hungry, too, or I couldn’t have eaten so much now.’ ‘He’ll soon get up an appetite at Simonstower,’ said Mrs. Trippett. ‘You’re higher up than we are, Mr. Pepperdine, and the air’s keener with you. To be sure, our children have good enough appetites here--you should see them at meal times!--I’m sure I oft wonder wherever they put it all.’ ‘It’s a provision of nature, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pepperdine. ‘There’s some wonderful things in Nature.’ ‘They’re wanting to see you, my dear,’ said Mrs. Trippett, ignoring her elder guest’s profound remark and looking at her younger one. ‘I told them Mr. Pepperdine was going to bring a young gentleman with him. You shall see them after tea--they’re out in the orchard now--they had their teas an hour ago, and they’ve gone out to play. There’s two of them--John and Mary. John’s about your own age, and Mary’s a year younger.’ ‘Can’t I go out to them?’ said Lucian. ‘I will, if you will please to excuse me.’ ‘With pleasure, my dear,’ said Mrs. Trippett. ‘Go by all means, if you’d like to. Go through the window there--you’ll hear them somewhere about, and they’ll show you their rabbits and things.’ The boy picked up his hat and went out. Mrs. Trippett followed him with meditative eyes. ‘He’s not shy, seemingly,’ she said, looking at Mr. Pepperdine. ‘Not he, ma’am. He’s an old-fashioned one, is the lad,’ answered Lucian’s uncle. ‘He’s the manners of a man in some things. I reckon, you see, that it’s because he’s never had other children to play with.’ ‘He’s a handsome boy,’ sighed the hostess. ‘Like his father as I remember him. He was a fine-looking man, in a foreign way. But he’s his mother’s eyes--poor Lucy!’ ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Pepperdine. ‘He’s Lucy’s eyes, but all the rest of him’s like his father.’ ‘Were you in time to see his father before he died?’ asked Mr. Trippett, who was now attacking the cold beef, after having demolished the greater part of a fowl. ‘You didn’t think you would be when you went off that morning.’ ‘Just in time, just in time,’ answered Mr. Pepperdine. ‘Ay, just in time. He went very sudden and very peaceful. The boy was very brave and very old-fashioned about it--he never says anything now, and I don’t mention it.’ ‘It’s best not,’ said Mrs. Trippett. ‘Poor little fellow!--of course, he’ll not remember his mother at all?’ ‘No,’ said Mr. Pepperdine, shaking his head. ‘No, he was only two years old when his mother died.’