He gave a short gruff laugh, and feigned to be more bored than pleased when Jack Durham grasped his hand, saying in a low tone: “I can never thank you enough, sir!”
And, at that moment “the two Dads” came in, making a complete “joy” party of happy hearts and radiant faces, while Sylvia, her fair cheeks flushing like roses with her inward delight, made the tea and dispensed it, Jack performing the duty of handing it round to the three elderly gentlemen who, like pleased spectators at a charming comedy, watched the proceedings with the absorbed interest of conspirators rejoicing in the successful result of a ripened plot.
“I should never have thought it possible,” said old Mr. Durham, breaking through the light desultory chatter presently with measured, drawling accents, “that you could have lent yourself”—here he fixed his eyes on the Philosopher who had just taken his cup of tea from the fair Sentimentalist’s hand.
“Lent myself?” and Craig smiled. “Why don’t you say gave myself? I gave myself to my own scheme—if that’s what you mean—and it seems to have turned out pretty well!”
“Yes, that’s right, Dad!” interposed Jack. “He gave himself—literally gave himself body and soul to the business of getting me well and about again!—and here I am!”
His father looked at him with eyes in which age had not burnt out tenderness.
“Here you are—thank God!” he said. “But what I find hard to understand—”
“I know!” interposed Dr. Maynard. “But we won’t say anything about it—”
“Oh, yes, we will!” and the Philosopher munched a piece of toast and washed it down with tea. “We will ask ourselves how it is that we who profess to know a great deal, know next to nothing about character! Character!—your character—my character!—everybody’s character! The duality of ourselves, as it were! What you don’t understand, my good Mr. Durham, is why I should have taken trouble over your son—who is nothing to me”—here he waved his tea-cup melodramatically—“literally nothing! Merely a worthy young man—an American—and I have very little use for Americans,—who was taken prisoner by the Germans. Now I have more friends among Germans than I have among Americans. Never mind that! It occurred to me that a German friend might be useful to the American young man under the circumstances; and—and—well!—there’s the whole story!”
“Not the whole story by any means!” broke out Jack, impetuously. “Not the care, the kindness, the attention, the patient watchfulness—”