“Then,” said the Professor, “it is well that you have left home; for it will soon be time for you to make love to some one else.”
As the Professor makes this observation, there is another knock at the door, and Ned enters. Who is Ned? Ned is the original of the sitting figure in the little picture over the fireplace. He is despotic in character, and has therefore many sincere friends and enemies. He is fearless when indignant, and is indignant easily. He is not handsome as Tom is,—for Tom’s beauty charms you immediately, and the charm is never broken; but he has a curious grace and fascination of manner when he is not perverse; but then, he often is perverse.
The Professor cannot tell whether he likes Ned, or not. He has been giving Ned private tuition, to fit him for college, for nearly a year. All their acquaintance hitherto has been one of business, all their conversation confined to an occasional dry remark on either side. Now, when their contract is fulfilled, the Professor cannot imagine why Ned should take advantage of his general invitation, and visit him. Still he asks Ned to be seated, and then enters into conversation with him.
Ned talks. His keen eye has noted everything ludicrous and everything interesting among his instructors, among his classmates, among all the persons and things with which college life has brought him in contact. He is full of animation; he tells stories, all of which have a point; he sparkles with wit, which is none the less brilliant for having a certain boyish freshness about it. All this is a new revelation to the Professor. He laughs, and in his turn becomes entertaining; and, finally, going to his sideboard, produces three quaint glasses, which he fills with some of that rare and wonderful old Madeira, which many of his acquaintances have heard of, but which few have ever seen.
Tom, in the mean time, sits listening, radiant with enjoyment, with the firelight tinting his lovely face. “Such a jolly old fellow as this Professor is!” he says to himself; “and such a being as Ned!” He is happier than he has been since he left home; and he wishes his mother could look in upon them now; and he drains his glass to her health. He is puzzled because Ned will address his remarks only to the Professor, and seems shy whenever he speaks. Finally, conscious that it is growing late, he bids the Professor farewell, and Ned rises to accompany him. The Professor says then, with a courteous and quiet dignity:—
“Tom, you must give my regards to your mother, when you write. Tell her that her boy will be always an object of especial interest to her old friend.” Then, turning to Ned, the Professor adds, as Tom disappears in the entry:—
“I have to thank you for a very pleasant evening. You will come again, my boy, will you not? Why have you never before shown me what you really are?”
“It wasn’t for you, sir,” said Ned, with a certain frankness that was not discourteous. “It was for Tom, sir; though I like you, and hope we shall be friends. But the moment I saw Tom, I felt drawn towards him; and, as I saw him come up here, I felt that here was a chance to get acquainted with him. Good-night, sir.”
And Ned joined Tom at the foot of the stairs, leaving the Professor in a state of complete bewilderment. The Professor laughs now, as he recalls that evening, and looks again at the picture over the fireplace.
“They are an interesting pair,—a sunbeam and a volcano,” he says; and, throwing on his cloak, just as the bell begins to ring, he starts for his lecture-room.