per's call
and entered the dining-room where his nephew was waiting with a cheery
"Good-morning, Uncle Richard." The boy's sunshiny face, somehow, made
the great room brighter, Trafford thought, and Hagar bustled about and
poured the coffee with a lighter heart than she had had since leaving
her people at Hastings.

[Illustration: "Good morning, Uncle Richard," Page 92.]

"Jes' what's been lackin' de whole time!" she thought to herself;
"Mas'r Dick wants somethin' he ken love and talk to. 'Pears like
dar'll be a change in dis yer ole house afore long, de Lord willin'."
It was such a long time since the old negress had seen a young face,
or heard the pleasant accents of a young voice, that she made various
pretexts for lingering in the room while the two sat at the table, and
though it was for the most part a silent meal, yet it was a wonderful
pleasure to see Noll eat, Hagar thought. And when the two had left the
table and gone to the library, she soliloquized, "Nebber thought I'd
see a day like dis yer, agen! Wonder what Mas'r Dick t'inks o' de boy?
Bress de chile! if mas'r don't take to him, 'pears like he'll nebber
take to nuffin. Be like habbin' poor Mas'r Noll's face afore him de
whole time, an' ef he ken stan' _dat_, athought lubbin' him, I's
'feard he's dun got colder'n a stone, de whole ob him. You jes' wait
an' see, Hagar!"

Noll followed his uncle from the breakfast-table into the library,
hoping that he would at once say something about his books or studies,
or at least hint what plans he had made concerning himself. It would
be a great deal pleasanter, Noll thought, to have Uncle Richard
dispose of him, even in a stern, cold way, than to do nothing at all
with him and remain indifferent as to whether he studied or grew up in
ignorance.

But Trafford had relapsed into one of his gloomy, absent moods, and
took up a book as soon as he reached the library, without a look or
word for Noll. The boy stood by one of the great windows and looked
out on the sea, striving to drown his disappointment by thinking of
other matters. When he had tired of this, and found that
disappointment was long-lived, and would not be drowned, he loitered
by the bookcases, reading the titles, now and then peering into a
volume and looking over its top at his uncle, and thinking him a very
cold or else a very forgetful man. When he had made the tour of the
room several times, and was about to go out in despair, Trafford
looke