‘Well,’ returned his friend, ‘you are a very strange fellow!’
To which remark there succeeded a brief silence.
‘When I say nothing,’ observed Mr Pinch, cheerfully, ‘I am wrong, and don’t say what I mean, because I get a great deal of pleasure from it, and the means of passing some of the happiest hours I know. It led to something else the other day; but you will not care to hear about that I dare say?’
‘Oh yes I shall. What?’
‘It led to my seeing,’ said Tom, in a lower voice, ‘one of the loveliest and most beautiful faces you can possibly picture to yourself.’
‘And yet I am able to picture a beautiful one,’ said his friend, thoughtfully, ‘or should be, if I have any memory.’
‘She came’ said Tom, laying his hand upon the other’s arm, ‘for the first time very early in the morning, when it was hardly light; and when I saw her, over my shoulder, standing just within the porch, I turned quite cold, almost believing her to be a spirit. A moment’s reflection got the better of that, of course, and fortunately it came to my relief so soon, that I didn’t leave off playing.’
‘Why fortunately?’
‘Why? Because she stood there, listening. I had my spectacles on, and saw her through the chinks in the curtains as plainly as I see you; and she was beautiful. After a while she glided off, and I continued to play until she was out of hearing.’
‘Why did you do that?’