The Principal said, “You will take tea with me, Professor Blaine?”
“With great pleasure.”
And to the other professors, “You will please take tea with Professor Blaine, at my house.”
The hour spent in the study with the Principal was not without a purpose on his part. It confirmed all that Doctor McConaughy and Professor Murray had written about him, and afforded certain knowledge that they had drawn a prize. By an adroit, yet careless method of conversation, introducing a general discussion of the textbooks of the day, with their general contents, their defects and excellences, the great knowledge of the new man was made evident, and it was not restricted to the mere curriculum of studies.
“Surely,” thought he, “I am in for it now in earnest,” as he was left alone for a few moments while his host went down to receive his other guests.
There was not a soul within three hundred miles who would think of calling him Jim Blaine, or Jimmy, nor dare to, if by some strange, unnatural process it did occur to him.
He was treated, respected, and honored as a man and a scholar. The world had opened to him, and he had entered. It was well there was no show or shoddy about him, and he knew it. The stamp of the mint was on him, and he passed at par, with the ring of honest coin.
There is a power in some men to meet any emergency when it is fairly on them. They rise with the tide, become a part of the occasion, and adjust themselves to it with a quiet dignity. He had this power, and felt it on him now. As he was going down-stairs to be presented to the ladies, he said to himself, as he threw back his hair with a quick, decided toss, “No politics to-night”; and this prolific subject was mentally abjured.
They received him as an equal, spoke of the favorable opinion they all entertained of him, and the joy his coming had given them.
He thanked them, and spoke of the pleasure he experienced in coming to a state so great in the nation’s life.