Father and daughter walked slowly home together, Dr. Warner's thoughts turning to the son so dear to his heart, of whom he had heard nothing for three long years. Where was he now, and what sort of life was he leading?
He startled Prissy by the sudden question, "Priscilla, have you observed how like Archie gets to poor Lewis? There are times when the likeness almost pains me. And—" he paused a moment—"he resembles him in character likewise. He is easily led by companions; Dr. Sparling told me so to-day. MY daughter, we must see to it that he is not compelled by the dulness of his home to seek bad society."
Prissy coloured. It was the first allusion her father had made for years to the part she had had in helping Lewis in his downward course, the first time he had mentioned that son's name for long months.
"O father," she said, "I do not think you need fear for Archie in that way. He dearly loves his home, and our quiet, happy evenings. But I do fear he will miss Austin's company, and the assistance he has given him in his studies."
"Ah, there it is again!" said the professor. "My time is so occupied just now, what with writing and correcting proofs of my new book, that I fear I shall not be able to give Archie the help he requires, specially in his mathematical studies. Besides, my eyesight is not so good as it used to be. Surely my spectacles are not strong enough. There are times when I can hardly see to read at all."
Prissy looked up alarmed. "Why," she said, "did you never tell me that before? Ought you not to consult an oculist about it? Perhaps you should rest your eyes a while. Father, can I not help you? Surely, at least, I can assist Archie. Say I may; do say so. Let me at least read to you."
Her father patted the girl kindly, saying. "Nay, nay, Priscilla; I did not mean to alarm you. I daresay my eyes are just wearied; and I am getting old, you know. And, my daughter, as to your reading to me, I fear treatises on mathematics and astronomy would soon weary you. They are rather uninteresting subjects to those who comprehend them not."
Prissy bit her lips. This was not the time, she felt, to tell her father how much she understood of both sciences. It was a temptation to do so, but the discipline of the past years had worked its end. She could now in patience possess her soul. The kingdom of God, the spirit of meekness, long-suffering, and love, was growing in her heart. The great lesson, which all God's children have sooner or later to learn, "to be still and wait," was being learned by her.
So now she only said, "Well, father, when you think I can help you, do ask me; and, in the meantime, promise me not to overtask your eyesight."
"Poor Priscilla!" said her father. "I believe you would help me if you could; and in one way you do, my daughter—you do. Now that Miss Vernon has left us, I could have little comfort in studying, if I did not know that you were keeping all straight in the house. No want of love towards you now, Priscilla, on the part of the little ones."