Everybody clapped their hands except myself and Mr. Barr. I preferred to remain neutral. As for the artist, he stood stroking his beard fiercely with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
At this moment the door opened, and a maidservant announced tea.
Mr. Spence looked at Miss Kingsley interrogatively. "From this moment, please," said she.
He shrugged his shoulders and sighed; and as we walked in to tea together Miss Kingsley whispered that he was about to practise his theory.
"Of course, Virginia dear, every one will understand that you are a novice, and you will be at liberty to talk in your natural manner. The rest of us are expected to assist Mr. Spence as far as possible. I am all in a flutter; I know I shall break down."
The room in which we took tea was a veritable snuggery. The servant found it difficult to get round the table, and there was a strong smell of the frying-pan owing to the vicinity of the tiny kitchen. But these inconveniences, if they were so to be called, merely added to my zest and enjoyment. Here, indeed, was agreeable and talented society! Aunt Agnes was right,—my associates hitherto had been frivolous and volatile. The world of fashion was a sham. What a contrast,—I could not help making it,—between the insipid speeches of my former friends and the clever talk of this purely literary circle, where ideas and scholarship were recognized and crowned.
Mr. Spence and Mr Barr sat on either side of Miss Kingsley, and I glanced from the one to the other, debating with myself whether I preferred the bold strong beauty of the artist, or the subtile and more delicate traits of feature of the philosopher. For though I had begun by regarding Mr. Spence almost as commonplace in appearance, the earnestness of his manner and the serious fervor of his eyes gave him an expression of having a deep and genuine belief in his own theories, which when compared with the impetuous but more volatile air of Paul Barr commended him to my respect and admiration even while I was flattered by the gallantries of his rival.
It was Mr. Barr who first broke the silence after we sat down to table, by asking me if I had not passed the summer at Tinker's Reach. As he spoke in the ordinary guise, I was surprised until it occurred to me that as a member of another school he could hardly be expected, even from courtesy or friendship, to practise doctrines to which he could not subscribe.
"Yes," said I.
"Malaria," began Mr. Spence.