I have just one other bit of history to give you. They stood together for a moment—the young bridegroom and the lady with whom he had faithfully worked ever since that rainy afternoon in which he had confided his gloom to her.
Both were looking at the two young men who stood near the piano, waiting to join in the chorus. Both had known these young men as “Nimble Dick” and “Black Dirk.”
Still another of the original seven stood in the immediate vicinity. The glances of the two workers took them all in; then they looked at each other, and smiled meaningly.
“I have been thinking of that first Sunday afternoon,” said Mrs. Roberts. “I asked them to pick up my handkerchief, which had dropped, and 'Nimble Dick' said, 'Pick it up yourself, mum! you're as able to as we be!' I wonder if they would remember it? What if I should tell them!”
As she spoke the bit of cambric in her hand designedly dropped almost at the feet of Dirk Colson. He stooped for it instantly, but “Nimble Dick” was too quick for him, and presented it to the owner with a graceful bow, and a slightly triumphant smile.
But the chorus was commencing, and the bass and tenor were at once absorbed in their work; so Mr. Ried and Mrs. Roberts had the memorial laugh all to themselves. None but they understood what the white handkerchief said.
Despite the laughter there was a suspicious mist in Mr. Ried's eyes.
“How far is mirth removed from tears?” he asked his hostess. And then: “Do you know, when I look at these young men, moving about your rooms at their ease, really ornaments to society, and think of the places in the world that they will be likely to fill, and think of what they were when you first saw them, the overwhelming contrast brings the tears!”
Said Mrs. Roberts:—
“I will tell you something that will do your heart good.