They wished very much that he could speak English.

Mother wrote several letters to people she thought might know whereabouts in England a Russian gentleman's wife and family might possibly be; not to the people she used to know before she came to live at Three Chimneys--she never wrote to any of them--but strange people--Members of Parliament and Editors of papers, and Secretaries of Societies.
And she did not do much of her story-writing, only corrected proofs as she sat in the sun near the Russian, and talked to him every now and then.
The children wanted very much to show how kindly they felt to this man who had been sent to prison and to Siberia just for writing a beautiful book about poor people.

They could smile at him, of course; they could and they did.

But if you smile too constantly, the smile is apt to get fixed like the smile of the hyaena.

And then it no longer looks friendly, but simply silly.