Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say, in order to keep up with them.
"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just above the fading glow.
"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you see the new moon!"
Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the subject.
"How do you like our John Short?" he asked.
"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young."
"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like what you fancied he would be?"
"Well no—not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always thought he would be rather Byronic—the poetical type, if you know what I mean."
"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw."
"Oh yes—I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure he must be very clever."