“You don’t like my little delicacy. It is a disappointment to me when I had kept it for your pleasure,” said the old man. “I beg that you will eat the caviare.”
“I have never tasted it before. No doubt I should like it in time.”
“Well, you must make a beginning. Why not start to educate your taste now? Do, please!”
Pretty Jessie Patterson’s bright face shone with her sunny, boyish smile.
“Why, how earnest you are!” she laughed. “I had no idea you were so polite, Professor Mercer. Even if I do not eat it I am just as grateful.”
“You are foolish not to eat it,” said the Professor, with such intensity that the smile died from her face and her eyes reflected the earnestness of his own. “I tell you it is foolish not to eat caviare to-night.”
“But why—why?” she asked.
“Because you have it on your plate. Because it is sinful to waste it.”
“There! there!” said stout Mrs. Patterson, leaning across. “Don’t trouble her any more. I can see that she does not like it. But it shall not be wasted.” She passed the blade of her knife under it, and scraped it from Jessie’s plate on to her own. “Now it won’t be wasted. Your mind will be at ease, Professor.”
But it did not seem at ease. On the contrary, his face was agitated like that of a man who encounters an unexpected and formidable obstacle. He was lost in thought.