And mountains?”
“No,” David acknowledged. “I don’t know where they’re found.”
“They’re from Wordsworth’s poem on Tintern Abbey. But I can’t remember just what comes after; you’ll find Wordsworth on that second shelf.”
David soon turned to the passage and began to read it, but Mr. Dean took the words out of his mouth and recited them to the close.
“Now, I shouldn’t lose them again,” he said. “But you see how it is—living alone here. Sometimes I can call my housekeeper to my assistance, but she hasn’t much feeling for poetry, excellent housekeeper though she is; and a sympathetic soul in such a matter is important—an ear to hear and a mind to comprehend! Well, David, I sent for you because I wanted to talk to you a little about my plans.”
David waited, silent in mystification.
“I told Dr. Davenport that I should of course resign my position at the end of the year,” continued Mr. Dean. “I felt that I was too seriously handicapped to be of much service. To my surprise Dr. Davenport said that if I presented my resignation he wouldn’t accept it. He seemed to think that I could still be of use to the school. Of course it pleased and touched me very much that he should think so. But I realize that I shall need a regular helper in my work; this term I’ve been depending on the good nature of this person or that person. I’ve hesitated to ask you; yet I’ve wondered if you would make the sacrifice of coming and living here with me instead of with the fellows of your age and class?”
“It wouldn’t be any sacrifice, Mr. Dean. But”—David hesitated a moment—“I’m afraid I shan’t be coming back next year.”
“Not coming back!” Mr. Dean’s voice rang with astonishment, and he turned his head toward David as if he still could see. “Is it some family difficulty, David? Your mother needs you at home, you think?”