Olivia laughed.
“Never mind,” she said. “What you mean to say is that you admire him very much, and that, like papa, you have ‘taken to him.’”
“That’s it,” said Bertie, with a sigh of relief. “So the squire likes him, does he? Well, I’m not surprised. I hope they’ll be great friends. He’ll cheer the squire up, and he wants it, dear old squire.”
Olivia turned to him with anxious eagerness.
“Then you have noticed that papa has been dull and low-spirited lately?” she said.
“Yes; I—I don’t think he has been quite up to his usual form. He looks bothered and worried about something,” said Bertie. “But don’t be uneasy, Olivia; it can’t be anything serious. What could trouble him?”
Olivia looked vacantly at the feathers nodding on Aunt Amelia’s hat.
“I don’t know of anything,” she said, thoughtfully. “No, there can be nothing. What is Mr. Faradeane going to recite to-night?” she asked, after a pause.
“I haven’t the least idea,” replied Bertie. “He has said nothing to me about it. Whatever it is will sure to be well done, you may depend. Here we are.”
The entertainment had evidently been regarded as an event of some importance, for there was a tolerably long string of carriages at the door, and Olivia, as she entered the schoolroom on Bertie’s arm, saw that the place was crammed. Their appearance was the signal for a burst of clapping and stamping, and passing up a narrow lane between the chairs, they made their way to the platform amid a hearty welcome.