“He can’t help liking it,” said Briar.
“I wonder if he will,” said Patty.
“What nonsense, Patty! Father is human, after all, and we have not disturbed one single blessed thing.”
Soon wheels were heard, and the children rushed out to greet their returning parent.
“How is Pauline, father?” asked Briar in an anxious voice.
“Pauline?” replied Mr. Dale, pushing his thin hand abstractedly through his thin locks. “What of her? Isn’t she here?”
“Nonsense, father!” said Patty. “You went to see her. She was very ill; she was nearly drowned. You know all about it. Wake up, dad, and tell us how she is.”
“To be sure,” said Mr. Dale. “I quite recall the circumstance now. Your sister is much better. I left her in bed, a little flushed, but looking very well and pretty. Pauline promises to be quite a pretty girl. She has improved wonderfully of late. Verena was there, too, and Pen, and your good aunt. Yes, I saw them all. Comfortable lodgings enough for those who don’t care for books. From what I saw of your sister she did not seem to be at all seriously ill, and I cannot imagine why I was summoned. Don’t keep me now, my dears; I must get back to my work. The formation of that last sentence from Plato’s celebrated treatise doesn’t please me. It lacks the extreme polish of the original. My dear Briar, how you stare! There is no possible reason, Briar and Patty, why the English translation should not be every bit as pure as the Greek. Our language has extended itself considerably of late, and close application and study may recall to my mind the most fitting words. But there is one thing certain, my dear girls—— Ah! is that you, nurse? Miss Pauline is better. I was talking about Plato, nurse. The last translation I have been making from his immortal work does not please me; but toil—ceaseless toil—the midnight oil, et cetera, may evoke the spirit of the true Muse, and I may be able to put the matter before the great English thinking public in a way worthy of the immortal master.”
Mr. Dale had now pushed his hat very far back from his forehead. He removed it, still quite abstractedly, and retired with long, shuffling strides to his beloved study.
“No food until I ring for it,” he said when he reached the door, and then he vanished.