Just then Miss Marston and the little ones and Nannie and Nora came up to us, so I introduced Hilliard to them, and as soon as we saw that Nora was talking to him, Jack and I dropped behind and kept there.
"Betty," said Jack, severely, as we turned away, "you are really a most provoking girl! I told that boy that you were nice, and you turned right round and acted abominably. What possessed you? I didn't hear him say one thing to make you angry."
"Jack," I answered, "sometimes you're as dense as a London fog. That boy is a conceited poke because he has no sister; and you'd be just like him if I weren't here to train you."
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Jack, indignantly. "Talking about conceit,—where do you put yourself?"
Two hands came suddenly between us; a pleasant voice said, "Let's talk about the sermon, and see which of us remembers most of it;" and there was Max. He had been in church, he said, but stopping to speak to some one had detained him, and he was now going home to have dinner with us,—which meant a visit with papa after dinner, and then a nice long talk with us in the schoolroom. Max is so nice about that; he never slights us. In fact, I think he spends more and more time with us, for he and Nannie have started in to play violin and piano duets together, and he comes one week-evening to practise. He has lent her his violin,—a beauty!—and he takes the piano part. His ward—"the great Shad," as Phil and Felix call him—has not yet arrived; but Max told us this Sunday, as we walked along, that he expected him to be in the city very soon, "and then," he said, "I shall bring him round to be introduced to you young people."
When we reached our house, Hilliard said good-bye, and ran across to his own gate; but Max, Mr. Erveng,—Max has been to call on the Ervengs, and has renewed acquaintance with his college-mate,—and papa stood talking for a few minutes before they separated. As we entered our door, Nannie was right behind me, and I heard her say to Felix in a low voice, "Look at papa as he stands between those two men; don't you think he looks very old and worn?"
"Well, he's years older than they, isn't he?" asked Fee, turning to look. I too craned my neck for a glimpse, but barely caught sight of the top of papa's hat over Phil's shoulder.
"Not so many," Nannie said; "he is eight years older than Mr. Erveng, and ten years older than Max. Not enough to show such a difference."
"Why, he looks twenty years older than either of them;" then, lowering his voice,—but I heard him,—Felix added, "Poor old pater! He seems to enjoy talking to Mr. Erveng; but do you know, Nannie, I'm awfully sorry we played that joke about the Fetich. I fancy he hasn't been quite the same since."
"No, he hasn't, and he's working desperately to get the book finished; he even works in the evening, when he used to read as a recreation. I hope he won't get ill." Then the front door closed, and there was a general rush upstairs to take off coats and hats.