For two or three minutes nobody spoke. Filippo was weeping silently; Percy cleared his throat; and even the other three were conscious of a slight huskiness. The evening was turning out differently from what they had anticipated.
Brushing away his tears, the stranger controlled himself with a strong effort.
"I don't know what you'll think of me, boys," said he, shamefacedly. "I'm sorry to have made such an exhibition of myself. But music always did affect me; besides, it's wakened some old memories. Guess I'd better be going now."
He half rose.
"Stay awhile longer," urged Jim; and the others seconded the invitation.
Thorpe sank back on his box.
"You won't have to persuade me very hard. Evenings alone on the Helen are pretty long."
His eye fell on Percy's Æneid on the shelf beside the window.
"Aha! Who's reading Virgil?"
"I am," confessed Percy. "Making up college conditions."