When Colin was on his sofa and the breakfast for two was put upon the table he made an announcement to the nurse in his most Rajah-like manner.

“A boy, and a fox, and a crow, and two squirrels, and a new-born lamb, are coming to see me this morning.  I want them brought up-stairs as soon as they come,” he said.  “You are not to begin playing with the animals in the servants’ hall and keep them there.  I want them here.”

The nurse gave a slight gasp and tried to conceal it with a cough.

“Yes, sir,” she answered.

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” added Colin, waving his hand.  “You can tell Martha to bring them here.  The boy is Martha’s brother.  His name is Dickon and he is an animal charmer.”

“I hope the animals won’t bite, Master Colin,” said the nurse.

“I told you he was a charmer,” said Colin austerely.  “Charmers’ animals never bite.”

“There are snake-charmers in India,” said Mary; “and they can put their snakes’ heads in their mouths.”

“Goodness!” shuddered the nurse.

They ate their breakfast with the morning air pouring in upon them.  Colin’s breakfast was a very good one and Mary watched him with serious interest.

“You will begin to get fatter just as I did,” she said.  “I never wanted my breakfast when I was in India and now I always want it.”

“I wanted mine this morning,” said Colin.  “Perhaps it was the fresh air.  When do you think Dickon will come?”

He was not long in coming.  In about ten minutes Mary held up her hand.

“Listen!” she said.  “Did you hear a caw?”

Colin listened and heard it, the oddest sound in the world to hear inside a house, a hoarse “caw-caw.”

“Yes,” he answered.

“That’s Soot,” said Mary.  “Listen again!  Do you hear a bleat—­a tiny one?”

“Oh, yes!” cried Colin, quite flushing.

“That’s the new-born lamb,” said Mary.  “He’s coming.”

Dickon’s moorland boots were thick and clumsy and though he tried to walk quietly they made a clumping sound as he walked through the long corridors.  Mary and Colin heard him marching—­marching, until he passed through the tapestry door on to the soft carpet of Colin’s own passage.

“If you please, sir,” announced Martha, opening the door, “if you please, sir, here’s Dickon an’ his creatures.”

[Illustration:  “DICKON CAME IN SMILING HIS NICEST WIDE SMILE.”—­Page 251]

Dickon came in smiling his nicest wide smile.  The new-born lamb was in his arms and the little red fox trotted by his side.  Nut sat on his left shoulder and Soot on his right and Shell’s head and paws peeped out of his coat pocket.

Colin slowly sat up and stared and stared—­as he had stared when he first saw Mary; but this was a stare of wonder and delight.  The truth was that in spite of all he had heard he had not in the least understood what this boy would be like and that his fox and his crow and his squirrels and his lamb were so near to him and his friendliness that they seemed almost to be part of himself.  Colin had never talked to a boy in his life and he was so overwhelmed by his own pleasure and curiosity that he did not even think of speaking.