She looked so pretty as she came down the stairs, wrapped in something white and fleecy, smiling on this side and that.
"It was very enjoyable," he said, "at least to you young people. I'm not much of a dancer nowadays, so I didn't come early."
"It was just full of pleasure. Madame Clerval always plans admirably."
He smiled to himself. Most girls would have protested about his being late, even if they had not specially cared.
The young people took up the habit of calling in the evening, three or four of them, sometimes half a dozen. Mrs. Jarvis would send in some cake and nice home-made wine, which was quite a fashion then. They made merry, of course.
"Dear uncle," she said one morning, it was raining so they couldn't go out, "didn't we disturb you last evening with our noise and laughter? I don't know why they are so eager to come here, and think they have a good time, for I am not as full of bright sayings as some of the girls. And if it annoys you——"
"My child, no. I lay on the sofa and listened to it, and it almost made me young again. I had no merry youth like that. Oh, am I coming to second childhood?"
His eyes were bright, and she thought she had never seen them so merry, save at first, when he had laughed at some of Felix's pranks. And his complexion was less pallid, his lips were red.
"Then second childhood is lovely. And you have grown so interested in everything. You don't get tired as you used. Are you real happy, or are you doing it just to make me happy?"
She gave him such a sweet, enquiring look, that he was touched at her solicitude.