There was the fat boy, perfectly motionless, with his large circular eyes staring into the arbour, but without the slightest expression on his face that the most expert physiognomist could have referred to astonishment, curiosity, or any other known passion that agitates the human breast.

Mr.Tupman gazed on the fat boy, and the fat boy stared at him; and the longer Mr.Tupman observed the utter vacancy of the fat boy's countenance, the more convinced he became that he either did not know, or did not understand, anything that had been going forward.

Under this impression, he said with great firmness-- 'What do you want here, Sir ?' 'Supper's ready, sir,' was the prompt reply.
'Have you just come here, sir ?' inquired Mr.Tupman, with a piercing look.
'Just,' replied the fat boy.
Mr.Tupman looked at him very hard again; but there was not a wink in his eye, or a curve in his face.
Mr.Tupman took the arm of the spinster aunt, and walked towards the house; the fat boy followed behind.
'He knows nothing of what has happened,'he whispered.
'Nothing,' said the spinster aunt.
There was a sound behind them, as of an imperfectly suppressed chuckle.
Mr.Tupman turned sharply round.

No; it could not have been the fat boy; there was not a gleam of mirth, or anything but feeding in his whole visage.
'He must have been fast asleep,' whispered Mr.Tupman.
'I have not the least doubt of it,' replied the spinster aunt.
They both laughed heartily.
Mr.Tupman was wrong.

The fat boy, for once, had not been fast asleep.
He was awake--wide awake--to what had been going forward.
The supper passed off without any attempt at a general conversation.