“Good afternoon, Mr. Colson,” she said, and she held forth her delicately-gloved hand.
His own went forward to meet it; then drew suddenly back.
“It is not clean enough,” he said; “there's ink or something on it.”'
But the lavender kids were not withdrawn.
“Never mind the ink; a little honest soil never hurt anybody,” and the rough, dark hand was taken in her own.
Then occurred a few moments' chat; at least the lady chatted with easy familiarity. She referred to the “Social Parlors,” to the “Monday Evenings,” to Miss Dennis' “Musicale,” to half a dozen themes about which the bewildered gentlemen within hearing knew nothing.
Could it be that the low-voiced, gentle lady was trying to give them a lesson as well as to talk with Dirk? Finally she made an appointment for the next afternoon. Would his employer be so kind as to excuse him for an hour, if convenient? Certainly, it would be convenient to please Mrs. Evan Roberts.
Dirk was very much embarrassed. He blushed and stammered, and did not know how to answer any of the kindnesses; but there were two things during the interview which gave Mrs. Roberts more pleasure than you, perhaps, are able to understand.
One was, that at sight of her he had suddenly snatched off the paper cap which he wore, and the other, that having set it again on his head as he turned from her, he glanced back from the door, and, in answer to her bow and smile, lifted the ugly little cap with an air that was an exact imitation of young Ried, and yet so well done that you would not have thought of it as an imitation.
Mrs. Roberts could have clapped her hands; but she did not. Instead she said, sweetly:—