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Rawdon
had
stolen
off
though
,
to
look
after
his
son
and
heir
;
and
came
back
to
the
company
when
he
found
that
honest
Dolly
was
consoling
the
child
.
The
Colonel
's
dressing-room
was
in
those
upper
regions
.
He
used
to
see
the
boy
there
in
private
.
They
had
interviews
together
every
morning
when
he
shaved
;
Rawdon
minor
sitting
on
a
box
by
his
father
's
side
and
watching
the
operation
with
never-ceasing
pleasure
.
He
and
the
sire
were
great
friends
.
The
father
would
bring
him
sweetmeats
from
the
dessert
and
hide
them
in
a
certain
old
epaulet
box
,
where
the
child
went
to
seek
them
,
and
laughed
with
joy
on
discovering
the
treasure
;
laughed
,
but
not
too
loud
:
for
mamma
was
below
asleep
and
must
not
be
disturbed
.
She
did
not
go
to
rest
till
very
late
and
seldom
rose
till
after
noon
.
Rawdon
bought
the
boy
plenty
of
picture-books
and
crammed
his
nursery
with
toys
.
Its
walls
were
covered
with
pictures
pasted
up
by
the
father
's
own
hand
and
purchased
by
him
for
ready
money
.
When
he
was
off
duty
with
Mrs.
Rawdon
in
the
park
,
he
would
sit
up
here
,
passing
hours
with
the
boy
;
who
rode
on
his
chest
,
who
pulled
his
great
mustachios
as
if
they
were
driving-reins
,
and
spent
days
with
him
in
indefatigable
gambols
.
The
room
was
a
low
room
,
and
once
,
when
the
child
was
not
five
years
old
,
his
father
,
who
was
tossing
him
wildly
up
in
his
arms
,
hit
the
poor
little
chap
's
skull
so
violently
against
the
ceiling
that
he
almost
dropped
the
child
,
so
terrified
was
he
at
the
disaster
.
Rawdon
minor
had
made
up
his
face
for
a
tremendous
howl
--
the
severity
of
the
blow
indeed
authorized
that
indulgence
;
but
just
as
he
was
going
to
begin
,
the
father
interposed
.
"
For
God
's
sake
,
Rawdy
,
do
n't
wake
Mamma
,
"
he
cried
.
And
the
child
,
looking
in
a
very
hard
and
piteous
way
at
his
father
,
bit
his
lips
,
clenched
his
hands
,
and
did
n't
cry
a
bit
.
Rawdon
told
that
story
at
the
clubs
,
at
the
mess
,
to
everybody
in
town
.
"
By
Gad
,
sir
,
"
he
explained
to
the
public
in
general
,
"
what
a
good
plucked
one
that
boy
of
mine
is
--
what
a
trump
he
is
!
I
half-sent
his
head
through
the
ceiling
,
by
Gad
,
and
he
would
n't
cry
for
fear
of
disturbing
his
mother
.
"
Sometimes
--
once
or
twice
in
a
week
--
that
lady
visited
the
upper
regions
in
which
the
child
lived
.
She
came
like
a
vivified
figure
out
of
the
Magasin
des
Modes
--
blandly
smiling
in
the
most
beautiful
new
clothes
and
little
gloves
and
boots
.
Wonderful
scarfs
,
laces
,
and
jewels
glittered
about
her
.
She
had
always
a
new
bonnet
on
,
and
flowers
bloomed
perpetually
in
it
,
or
else
magnificent
curling
ostrich
feathers
,
soft
and
snowy
as
camellias
.
She
nodded
twice
or
thrice
patronizingly
to
the
little
boy
,
who
looked
up
from
his
dinner
or
from
the
pictures
of
soldiers
he
was
painting
.
When
she
left
the
room
,
an
odour
of
rose
,
or
some
other
magical
fragrance
,
lingered
about
the
nursery
.
She
was
an
unearthly
being
in
his
eyes
,
superior
to
his
father
--
to
all
the
world
:
to
be
worshipped
and
admired
at
a
distance
.
To
drive
with
that
lady
in
the
carriage
was
an
awful
rite
:
he
sat
up
in
the
back
seat
and
did
not
dare
to
speak
:
he
gazed
with
all
his
eyes
at
the
beautifully
dressed
Princess
opposite
to
him
.
Gentlemen
on
splendid
prancing
horses
came
up
and
smiled
and
talked
with
her
.
How
her
eyes
beamed
upon
all
of
them
!
Her
hand
used
to
quiver
and
wave
gracefully
as
they
passed
.
When
he
went
out
with
her
he
had
his
new
red
dress
on
.
His
old
brown
holland
was
good
enough
when
he
stayed
at
home
.
Sometimes
,
when
she
was
away
,
and
Dolly
his
maid
was
making
his
bed
,
he
came
into
his
mother
's
room
.
It
was
as
the
abode
of
a
fairy
to
him
--
a
mystic
chamber
of
splendour
and
delights
.
There
in
the
wardrobe
hung
those
wonderful
robes
--
pink
and
blue
and
many-tinted
.
There
was
the
jewel-case
,
silver-clasped
,
and
the
wondrous
bronze
hand
on
the
dressing-table
,
glistening
all
over
with
a
hundred
rings
.
There
was
the
cheval-glass
,
that
miracle
of
art
,
in
which
he
could
just
see
his
own
wondering
head
and
the
reflection
of
Dolly
(
queerly
distorted
,
and
as
if
up
in
the
ceiling
)
,
plumping
and
patting
the
pillows
of
the
bed
.
Oh
,
thou
poor
lonely
little
benighted
boy
!
Mother
is
the
name
for
God
in
the
lips
and
hearts
of
little
children
;
and
here
was
one
who
was
worshipping
a
stone
!
Now
Rawdon
Crawley
,
rascal
as
the
Colonel
was
,
had
certain
manly
tendencies
of
affection
in
his
heart
and
could
love
a
child
and
a
woman
still
.
For
Rawdon
minor
he
had
a
great
secret
tenderness
then
,
which
did
not
escape
Rebecca
,
though
she
did
not
talk
about
it
to
her
husband
.
It
did
not
annoy
her
:
she
was
too
good-natured
.
It
only
increased
her
scorn
for
him
.
He
felt
somehow
ashamed
of
this
paternal
softness
and
hid
it
from
his
wife
--
only
indulging
in
it
when
alone
with
the
boy
.
He
used
to
take
him
out
of
mornings
when
they
would
go
to
the
stables
together
and
to
the
park
.
Little
Lord
Southdown
,
the
best-natured
of
men
,
who
would
make
you
a
present
of
the
hat
from
his
head
,
and
whose
main
occupation
in
life
was
to
buy
knick-knacks
that
he
might
give
them
away
afterwards
,
bought
the
little
chap
a
pony
not
much
bigger
than
a
large
rat
,
the
donor
said
,
and
on
this
little
black
Shetland
pygmy
young
Rawdon
's
great
father
was
pleased
to
mount
the
boy
,
and
to
walk
by
his
side
in
the
park
.
It
pleased
him
to
see
his
old
quarters
,
and
his
old
fellow-guardsmen
at
Knightsbridge
:
he
had
begun
to
think
of
his
bachelorhood
with
something
like
regret
.
The
old
troopers
were
glad
to
recognize
their
ancient
officer
and
dandle
the
little
colonel
.
Colonel
Crawley
found
dining
at
mess
and
with
his
brother-officers
very
pleasant
.
"
Hang
it
,
I
ai
n't
clever
enough
for
her
--
I
know
it
.
She
wo
n't
miss
me
,
"
he
used
to
say
:
and
he
was
right
,
his
wife
did
not
miss
him
.
