Then, having relieved his feelings, he abruptly laughed to himself
and pursued his errand with business-like briskness.
Returning, he found his _protege_ in a small heap on the sofa, with his
head deep in the cushion as though he sought escape from the light. Again
the feeling of harbouring some small animal in pain came to him, and he
frowned. The mute misery of that huddled form held a more poignant appeal
than any words.
"Look here,--Toby!" he said. "I've brought you something to eat, and when
you've had it you'd better get a sleep. You can tell me all about it--if
you want to--in the morning."
The boy started upright at his coming. He looked at Saltash in his quick,
startled way. It was almost as if he expected a kick at any moment. Then
he looked at the tray he carried and suddenly his face crumpled; he hid
it in his hands.
"Oh, dash it!" said Saltash. "Let's have a little sense!"
He set down the tray and flicked the fair head admonishingly, with his
thumb, still frowning. "Come! Be a sport!" he said.
After a brief pause with a tremendous effort the boy pulled himself
together and sat up, but he did not raise his eyes to Saltash again. He
kept them fixed upon his hands which were tightly clasped in front of
him.
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