ly vexed.

"Shall you send me back, sir!" said Dexter at last; and his look was
full of wistful appeal.

"Well, I shall think about it," said the doctor.

"I don't want to go," said the boy thoughtfully. "You don't want me to
go, do you?" he continued, turning to Helen.

"Here, the lunch is getting cold," said the doctor. "Come along."

As he spoke he half-pushed Dexter before him, and pointed to a chair.

The boy hesitated, but a sharp command from the doctor made him scuffle
into his place, after which the grace was said, and the dinner commenced
for Dexter--the lunch for his patron and friend.

Roast fowl most delicately cooked, with a delicious sauce; in addition
to that made with bread; and there was an ornamentation round the dish
of tempting sausages.

The odour from the steaming dishes was enough to have attracted any
coarsely-fed workhouse boy, just as a flower, brings a bee from afar.

Helen was helped to a couple of choice slices from the breast, and then
the doctor, looking stern all the while, carved off the liver wing, with
a fine long piece of juicy breast adhering, and laid it on a plate, with
the biggest sausage, gravy, and sauce, Maria carrying the plate
afterwards to Helen to be well supplied with vegetables.

Then, according to custom, Maria departed with her nose in the air, and
her bosom overcharged with indignant remonstrances, which she was going
to let off at Mrs Millett.

The meal was commenced in silence, Dexter taking up his knife and fork,
and watching by turns the doctor and Helen, to see how they handled
theirs. Then he cut the sausage in half, just as the doctor had cut
his, and looked hard at him, but the doctor was gazing down at his plate
and frowning.

Dexter looked at Helen, but she was gazing at her father, and everything
was very still in the dining-room, while from without, faintly heard,
there came the rippling song of a lark, far away over the meadow across
the river.

That fowl smelt delicious, and looked good in the extreme, but Dexter
laid down his knife and fork, and sat perfectly still.

Helen saw everything, but she did not speak, and the annoyance she had
felt began to diminish, for the boy was evidently suffering keenly.

"Hallo!" said the doctor. "Don't you like chicken!"

The boy started, and looked up at him with a troubled face.

"I say, don't you like chicken, sir!"

Dexter tried to answer, but the words would not come; and he sat there
wit