David said nothing, but Violet repeated her opinion as to their new friend’s want of earnestness.
“If it had been the most foolish thing in the world, he would have done it just as well, and just as willingly, if he had thought it was expected of him to do it.”
“Are you not a little severe on him?” said her mother.
“No, mamma; I don’t mean to be severe. He would think it a great compliment paid to him, though you don’t think it nice. He does not look seriously at life. He amuses himself with everything. Just compare him with our Davie.”
David had gone out before she said this.
“Nonsense! Letty. Our Davie is a boy still, and Mr Philip is a man. He has completed the course at the university, you know quite well.”
“Our Davie is far more manly than he, for all that. And so are you, Jem. Davie is worth two of him.”
“A great deal more than two of him to us, Letty,” said her mother, laughing. “Still, I am inclined to think with Jem, that you are a little hard on him.”
“Yes, she does not like him,” said Jem. “And it is odd, too, for he likes her, and you, mamma, and all of us.”
“Oh! yes; I dare say he does. We amuse him for the moment. I know him better than you do, Jem. I have seen him every day for a fortnight, you know. I like him very well, but I don’t think he is reliable. He is not in earnest,” repeated Violet, solemnly. “And Sunday-school teaching is not a proper thing to amuse one’s self with. It would spoil all the pleasure of it to have him come there always. However, there is no danger. He will find something else to amuse him.”