“He did that,” returned Antony pushing forward a chair, but making no attempt to sit down himself. The impulse had been upon him. Memory had awakened just in time.
Doctor Hilary was silent. The reality was so entirely different from his preconceived notions. The cheerful, clean-shaven young man, with the Irish accent, standing before him in an attitude of quite respectful, but not in the least subservient attention, was at such complete variance with either of his two imaginary types, that he found his attitude of grimness insensibly relaxing.
“Did George speak to you regarding your work?” he demanded suddenly. He couldn’t for the life of him, think of anything else to say.
“Well,” returned Antony thoughtfully considering, “he asked me about my last place, and I told him I’d been working on my own account. Thereupon he expressed surprise that I should now be taking an under post, but remarked with vast wisdom that every man knew his own business best.”
“Hmm,” said Doctor Hilary.
“He also,” continued Antony, his eyes twinkling, “was for giving me advice on matrimony, and mentioned three ‘vitty maids’ he could produce for my inspection. I told him,” continued Antony solemnly, though his eyes were still twinkling, “that I was not a marrying man at all.”
Doctor Hilary found the twinkle in Antony’s eyes gaining response in his own. He was such a remarkably cheerful young man, and so confiding.
“Hmm,” he remarked again. “He said nothing else I suppose? Expressed no surprise at your being chosen for the post, instead of a local man?”
“He did not,” responded Antony, replying to the last question. “It would seem that he thought any appointment to the post unnecessary, in view of the fact that the Hall was at present untenanted.”
“And you replied—?” asked Doctor Hilary.