Major Perdue had the art of entertainment at his fingers’ ends, which, though it is very simple, not one man in a hundred learns. It is the knack of leaving the guest to his own devices without seeming to do so. Most fortunate in his gifts is the host who knows how to temper his attentions!
In his efforts to get the fair under way, Paul Conant found it impossible to come to dinner, but sent his apologies.
“You’ll think it is a mighty small concern when you see it,” said the Major, “but it takes all that Paul can do to keep it from getting into a tangle. He has to be here, there, and everywhere, and there hasn’t been a minute for a week or more but what forty people were hollering at him at once, and forty more pulling and hauling him about. If he wasn’t a steam-engine, he couldn’t hold out half an hour.”
“Well, he’ll soon straighten matters out,” said I, “and then they’ll stay so.”
“That’s so,” remarked the Major; “but when that’s done, he’ll have to rush around from post to pillar to keep ’em straight.”
“Did he seem to be greatly worried?” Valentine asked.
“No-o-o-o,” replied the Major, slowly and hesitatingly, “but I’m afear’d his shoulder has begun to trouble him again.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought.
“Why should you think that, father?”
“Once or twice, whilst he was rustling about I saw him fling his hand to his shoulder and hold it there, and I’m mightily afear’d it’s hurting him.” The Major drew a deep sigh as he spoke, and silence fell on all. It was brief, but it was long enough for one to know that an unpleasant subject had been touched on—that there was something more behind it all than a pain in Conant’s shoulder. Aunt Minervy Ann, who was equal to every emergency, created a diversion with the baby, and the Major soon pulled himself together.
Paul Conant came home to supper, and in the sitting-room, before the meal was announced, I observed that the Major was as solicitous about him as a mother is of her baby. His eyes were constantly on his son-in-law, and if the latter showed any sign of worry, or frowned as if in pain, a shadow would pass over the Major’s genial face.