But the sudden attack rendered him weak and anxious for the rest of the day. He had never fainted like that before. It must have been the heat and the fury he had flown into with Usher. When he went home to lunch Miss Lanyon was alarmed at his appearance. “Perhaps I'm a little bilious. It is the heat. It's nothing,” he said obstinately. Miss Lanyon looked at him sadly out of her faded blue eyes. If Dorothy, herself, or any of the household showed signs of poorliness, he would worry himself to death about it, get the doctors in, ransack the town for delicacies, and send special messengers from the office during the day to make inquiries. But where he himself was concerned, he was impatient of interference. Miss Lanyon shook her head. Men were insoluble enigmas. In the afternoon he went round the garden with his little granddaughter, submitting to be decorated with whatever flowers her childish fancy selected. He wore carnations round the ribbon of his hat, a Maréchal Niel rose in the lapel of his coat, and pansies stuck down his waistcoat, and he stalked on, gravely holding the child's hand and chatting with her on terms of comradeship. As they passed by the strawberry beds in the kitchen garden, Dorothy pointed to some ragamuffin children pressing their faces against the iron gate. “Dirty little boys,” she announced fastidiously. “What would you sooner give them,--soap or strawberries?” asked the old man. Dorothy reflected a moment. “Soap is nasty,” she said. “Well, we'll give them some strawberries. Open the gate and call them.” She ran to the gate and gave the invitation. The children came in shyly, their mouths watering. “Show them how to pick,” said Matthew. She bent down and picked and gave a berry to each of the children. The old man walked away. Presently Dorothy came running after him. Why had he gone off? “They'll eat more if I'm not there,” said he. “But why don't you stay?” “One of them ate a slug,” replied Dorothy, in disgusted dignity. The old man threw himself down on a garden seat and laughed. Dorothy clambered on to his knees. “Tell me about the kangaroos,” she commanded. So for the next hour he entertained her with stories of kangaroos and monkeys and crocodiles and the strange beasts of far lands. Then Miss Lanyon came upon them, in search of Dorothy. “There are some horrid little boys stealing the strawberries,” she said. “What! are they there still? They began an hour ago. I gave them leave.” “And they have been picking some of the green peaches that were coming on so nicely.” “They'll enjoy them green better than we shall enjoy them ripe,” said Matthew. “So let them be.” “I sha'n't. They'll be ill,” said Miss Lanyon, with spirit. The old man went off to distribute halfpence among the children as a sort of compensation for loss of stomach aches, and his sister carried off Dorothy. “Dorothy,” she said on the way, “your grandfather is a saint.”