He was a fine open-faced boy, with blue eyes and waving flaxen hair, sturdy in limb, but generous and soft in heart, fondly attaching himself to all who were good to him--to the pony--to Lord Southdown, who gave him the horse (he used to blush and glow all over when he saw that kind young nobleman)--to the groom who had charge of the pony--to Molly, the cook, who crammed him with ghost stories at night, and with good things from the dinner--to Briggs, whom he plagued and laughed at--and to his father especially, whose attachment towards the lad was curious too to witness. Here, as he grew to be about eight years old, his attachments may be said to have ended. The beautiful mother-vision had faded away after a while. During near two years she had scarcely spoken to the child. She disliked him. He had the measles and the hooping-cough. He bored her. One day when he was standing at the landing-place, having crept down from the upper regions, attracted by the sound of his mother's voice, who was singing to Lord Steyne, the drawing room door opening suddenly, discovered the little spy, who but a moment before had been rapt in delight, and listening to the music.
His mother came out and struck him violently a couple of boxes on the ear. He heard a laugh from the Marquis in the inner room (who was amused by this free and artless exhibition of Becky's temper) and fled down below to his friends of the kitchen, bursting in an agony of grief.

He was a fine open-faced boy of about eight, with blue eyes and waving flaxen hair, sturdy but generous and soft-hearted, fondly attaching himself to all who were good to him - to the pony - to Lord Southdown, who gave it to him - to the groom who had charge of it - to Molly, the cook, who crammed him with ghost stories at night, and with good food by day -to Briggs, whom he plagued and laughed at - and especially to his father, whose attachment towards the lad was curious to witness.
Here young Rawdon's attachments ended. The beautiful mother-vision had faded. For nearly two years she had scarcely spoken to the child. She disliked him. He had the measles and the whooping-cough. He bored her. One day when he was standing on the landing, attracted by the sound of his mother's voice singing to Lord Steyne, the drawing room door opened suddenly: and she discovered the little spy and boxed his ears violently. He heard a laugh from the Marquis as he fled down to his friends of the kitchen, in an agony of grief.
