“Yes, one cannot help noticing his awkwardness,” said Hilda, laughing in spite of herself; “but I think it is caused by embarrassment, and he has so many good traits that one can easily overlook such small defects.”
“You seem to be well posted as to his good qualities. Please inform me of what they consist,” remarked Fred dryly.
“In kindness to his mother and sister; in his genuine goodness, earnestness and stability; there is nothing trifling in his manner; one may be sure that he means what he says, and can depend fully upon him.”
“You appear to have made quite a study of our friend Jack,” commented Fred, flushing uneasily. “I scarcely thought that one year’s acquaintance could make one so thoroughly competent to judge.”
“But I have the opinion of others; everyone speaks well of Jack Prettyman.”
“Have you more than a friendly interest in him?”
“Not at all; I never thought of such a thing; but am only saying what is my real opinion of him. He is your friend; you should be glad to know that he is appreciated.”
“So I am in a certain sense, but if I tell the truth I must say that he is awkward and uncouth.”
“That is owing to his having so little confidence in himself. He hasn’t a particle of conceit. Conceited people are so comfortable that they can afford to be agreeable. It really appears to be a desirable thing to have a good opinion of one’s self. Don’t you realize this?”
“Do you speak from experience?”