“Come in,” said the Judge, and Dallas appeared.
“My boy,” said the Judge, “this young girl is a daughter of a woman who was very kind to Bethany.”
Dallas turned to Airy and made her such an exquisite bow that she caught her breath and gasped, “O, my!”
The Judge bit his lip. “Miss Airy Tingsby and Mr. Dallas de Warren. Now you will know each other the next time you meet. How have you been getting on with your studies this evening, Dallas?”
“Very well, sir, though perhaps not as well as usual, on account of the Higby affair. It amused Titus.”
“Will you give Miss Airy an account of it?” said the Judge. “It is not polite for two persons to talk before a third of something that he or she does not understand.”
In a perfectly calm and courteous way Dallas, without appearing to notice that his new acquaintance belonged to one of the poorest classes in society, gave her an account of the unfortunate Higby’s fright.
Airy hung on his words in entranced silence. Never before in her young life had anyone addressed her with so much deference. A delightful sensation ran through her veins. She could have sat till midnight listening to that mellifluous voice.
“And now we must not keep you,” said the Judge, when Dallas, having finished his recital, turned to him. “By the way, though, what are you reading in Latin just now?”
“The first book of the Æneid, sir.”