"I am sorry you did not see that boy. He would have taken hold of your imagination, I think, and certainly of Harry's. Airy has seen only the sunny side of life. He has all the espièglerie of the African child."
"Orphy has not much of that," said the Doctor.
You ought to have seen little Airy, too, Keith. He was already famous when you were here. He is rightly named; a very Ariel for grace and sportiveness. With the African light-heartedness, he has also something of African pathos. In his silent smile there is a delicate sadness,—not the trace of any pain he has known, but like the lingering of an inherited regret. His transitions are more rapid than belong to our race: while you are still laughing at his drollery, you see that he has suddenly passed far away from you; his soft, shadowy eyes are looking out from under their drooping lashes into a land where your sight cannot follow them.
"If you were to go there again, it would be worth while to ask for him," I said to the Doctor. "Airy Harvey is one of the wonders of our world."
"Airy Harvey!" cried the Doctor; "does Harvey allow his servants to bear his name? Westlake strictly forbids the use of his to his people. But then he supplies them with magnificent substitutes. He doesn't think any name but his own too good for them."
"Does he forbid them to take it?" asked Barton. "I heard so, but thought it was a joke. Why, there isn't a living thing on his place but goes by his name, down to that handsome hound that follows him, who's known everywhere about as Nero Westlake."
Barton seemed to enjoy Westlake's failure, and so, I am afraid, did the Doctor. He laughed heartily.
"He's rather unlucky," he said, "considering it's almost the only thing he is particular about."
"I don't believe Mr. Harvey could change the custom either, if he wished," I said; "but I do not think he does wish it. A name is a strong bond."