He seemed much surprised and a little hurt when Miss Arnold shook her head, smilingly.
“You see, there are so many——” she began, noting his disappointed look.
“Then I s’pose you can’t find her fer me. You see,” he explained, gently, “I wrote her I wuz comin’ ter-morrer, an’ I came ter-night fur a surprise—a surprise,” he repeated, delightedly. “But I’m mighty disappointed not ter find her. This is the first time I ever wuz so fur east. But I hed to see Ellen—couldn’t stan’ it no longer. You see,” he continued, nervously, “I thought mebbe I could stay here three or four days, but last night I got a telegram from my pardner on the mountain sayin’ there wuz trouble among the boys an’ fur me ter come back. But I—I jest couldn’t go back without seein’ Ellen, so I came on ter-night fur a surprise, but I must start back right off, an’ I’m mighty disappointed not ter be seein’ her all this time. Hed no idea yer college wuz such a big place—thought I could walk right in an’ spot her,” he ran on meditatively—“I thought it wuz something like Miss Bellairs’s an’ Miss Tompkins’s an’ Miss Rand’s all rolled inter one. But Lord! it’s a sight bigger’n that! Well, I’m glad of it. I’ve thought fur years about Ellen’s havin’ a college eddication, an’ I’m glad to see it’s a real big college. Never hed no schoolin’ myself, but I jest set my heart on Ellen’s havin’ it. Why shouldn’t she? I’ve got ther money. Hed to work mighty hard fur it, but I’ve got it, an’ she wanted ter come to college, and I wanted her to come, so of course she came. I met another young woman,” he continued, smiling frankly at the girl before him; “she wasn’t so fine-lookin’ as you, but she was a very nice young woman, an’ she promised to send Ellen ter me, but she hasn’t done it!”
Miss Arnold felt a sudden interest in the old man.
“Perhaps,” she began, doubtfully, “if you could tell me what her class is, or in what building she has her rooms, I might find her.”
He looked at the young girl incredulously.
“Ain’t you never heard of her?” he demanded. “Why, everybody knew her at Miss Bellairs’s. But p’r’aps”—in a relieved sort of way—“p’r’aps you ain’t been here long. This is Ellen’s second year.”
Miss Arnold felt slightly aggrieved. “I am a Senior,” she replied, and then added courteously, “but I am sure the loss has been mine.”
She could not make this man out, quite—he was so evidently uncultivated, so rough and even uncouth, and yet there was a look of quiet power in his honest eyes, and he was so unaffectedly simple and kindly that she instinctively recognized the innate nobility of his character. She felt interested in him, but somewhat puzzled as to how to continue the conversation, and so she turned rather helplessly to her magazine.
But he came over and stood beside her, looking down wonderingly at the unfamiliar words and accents.