"He told me to go straight in to you when I got into the house and say that he wasn't one mite offended, and for you to preserve the card in case you changed your mind," said Lydia. "He's a gentleman, that's what he is," added Lydia, as she half turned in the doorway, as one who would be willing to entertain a motion to linger.
"Is he, Lydia?" asked Rob demurely. "How did he prove it?"
"By not bearing ill-will when you all got angry," said Lydia with spirit. "And by his conversation with me. He's serious-minded; says he neither drinks, smokes, chews nor swears, and considers life too short to be wasted on dangerous pastimes, like such. He's got a lot of serious books that came in an old book-case his folks bought. He's going to come out here some pleasant night and lend me those books—bring 'em with him. I'd admire to read 'em! Some are biographies of good men, and some are sermons; he says some are obituary sermons. He's a perfect gentleman!"
Lydia departed to begin getting a dinner that would inevitably be late at best.
"Obituary sermons! Coming to lend them to Lydia! The test of gentlemanhood!" murmured Rob.
"Are we witnessing the dawn of a romance?" asked Wythie, whose perceptions in that direction were keener of late.