III.
MR. WILDING.
"This is very pleasant," said Buckingham cordially, as he bade the young man lay aside his coat and take a seat by the fire. While his guest was obeying him, the host said in an aside,—only the aside was inaudible, contrary to the custom of asides,—"He does not recognize me. I will draw him out."
"I was in town this evening,—in fact, in this very street," said Mr. Wilding,—"and I could not resist the temptation to call on you."
"I am very glad you didn't," said Buckingham heartily. "It is evident you were led into it. Have you many friends in town?"
"Not very many. I know one or two men in college. I thought at one time of coming here to college myself. I gave that up, however, and now I am thinking of taking a special course, perhaps in English. Indeed, that is one reason why I came to town to-day."
"Well, the college is hospitable enough. It is a great hotel, with accommodations for regular boarders, but with reduced tickets for the table-d'hôte, and a restaurant for any one who happens in, where one may dine à la carte."
"I have not had a classical education," said the young man.
"Very well: you can make a special point of that. Very few of our later writers have had a classical education. Scholarship is no longer a part of general culture. It is a profession by itself. It is scientific, not literary."
"But you had a classical education, Mr. Buckingham?"
"Yes, I had once. I don't deny that I am glad I had; but I am forced to conceal it nowadays."
"And you still read the classics," he went on, with a respectful glance at a Greek book lying open on the table. Buckingham hastily closed the book.
"Yes, when no one is looking. But tell me about your plans. Shall you room in the college buildings?"
"I have come so late in the year that I cannot get any satisfactory rooms."
"Why not try getting a room somewhere in this neighborhood? There are students, I think, who live on this street. I am afraid there are no vacant rooms in this house, or I would introduce you to my landlady."
"I am not sure but I shall. In fact, I have been looking at a room farther up the street this evening."
"Indeed! What house did you find it in?"
"I found two or three houses that had rooms to let for students. They were not boarding-houses. I don't care to board."
"Mr. Wilding, my opinion of you rises with each sentiment you express. First you think of studying English in a scholarly fashion; then you detest boarding. I am sure we shall be friends. I shall invite you to take tea with me,—not to-night, for I have already had my tea, but when you are settled in your room."
"Thank you; I accept with pleasure. I am glad you did not insist on my taking tea with you to-night, for I have just come from tea."
"Oh! I remember you said you had friends in town."
"Yes; I have some cousins of an indefinite degree. They live on this street, and they will make it pleasant for me. But they know very little about the college, and I ventured to call to ask your advice about this matter of a special course. Would you try for a degree?"
Mr. Buckingham had nothing to do with the college; he was not even a graduate of this particular one; but he dearly loved to give advice. He took down the college catalogue, and talked with great animation for some time to his young friend, who confided to him that his ambition was to be an author, and that he had already written several sketches of character.
"Excellent," said Buckingham to himself. "You shall be my hero; only you will write short poems. Then nobody will detect your likeness."
Wilding stayed an hour, and then made ready to leave.
"If you are going to take the car, you are just in time," said his host, as they shook hands by the door of his room.
"I am going first to my cousin's," said the young man.
"Oh, are you? Wait a moment. I should like a little airing. I will walk along with you." And Buckingham, with a sudden admiration for his prompt seizure of the hour, put on his hat and coat.