“I am glad to hear it—he is a very nice young fellow,” affirmed Mr. Black.
“I have never seen him,” said Arthur Dudley.
“Then you will be pleased when you do see him,” answered the oracle; “a very intelligent, modest, well-mannered, pushing young man as any I know.”
“And handsome too,” added Mrs. Black, glad to find some smooth water where she could safely launch her little conversational boat again without fear of breakers. “And handsome too; and oh! so good to his mother and sisters.”
“I liked him greatly,” said Heather, from her end of the table; and, as she spoke, almost involuntarily she glanced at Bessie, who, with her head turned aside, was looking out into the semidarkness of the summer’s night.
Alick had his eyes fixed on Bessie also. Perhaps he was trying to reconcile the fact of Gilbert Harcourt with the existence of the stranger they had met in North Kemms church. Anyhow, he felt curious, and, though Heather knew nothing about the North Kemms stranger, she had grown curious also.
In due time Mr. Harcourt arrived, as did also Miss Hope, and then, indeed, the house was full—so full that Bessie privately likened it to a Noah’s Ark, and wondered how the patriarch managed to keep his animals in order.
“It is more than poor Heather can do,” sighed Alick.
“What makes her have them?” asked Bessie.
“Do you think Arthur would be satisfied if she had not?” inquired the lad. “It is just the same every year, only, unhappily, this year they have all elected to come together.”