Mr. Brigs settled himself down to read the paper, and his lady settled herself down to her favorite exercise—knitting; while Solomon and Nanny repeated to each other surmises as to the probable appearance of the new comer—his age—dress, &c.
The day passed away, and night came on. Tea was over, and this happy little family had gathered around the cheerful fire. A gentle tap was heard at the door, and a voice pronouncing the simple word—“housekeepers.”
“Come in,” responded Mrs. Brigs, and in came Mr. Jenkins, followed by a young man apparently about twenty-two, with black hair and eyes, straight, tall, and erect, handsome, and of a genteel and prepossessing appearance, who was introduced by his conductor as Mr. Timothy Dobbs.
“My friend,” said Mr. Jenkins, after being seated, and taking an accurate survey of the premises, “has come among us for the purpose, he says, of opening a school. He is an orphan, of very superior endowments—brings with him ample credentials of his capacity, and expects to find patronage for his support from the inhabitants of our village.”
Mr. Dobbs bowed a concurrence in the remarks of Mr. Jenkins, and hoped that Mr. Brigs could furnish him with board and a convenient room in his house.
“Ah, that’s it!” said Mr. Jenkins, recollecting the object of his visit—“that’s what we’re a coming to. This gentleman, Mr. Brigs, wishes to reside in your family, and to eat at your table, sir. I hope—I s’pose you can accommodate him, Mr. Brigs?”
Mr. Brigs said that he could, and that he should be happy to serve him, Mr. Dobbs, in any other manner possible. Matters being thus considered, and terms agreed on, Mr Jenkins arose to depart; having first satisfied Mr. Dobbs that he, Dobbs, would be sure to sleep soundly that night, and assured him of the total absence of all danger from external assaults under the roof of so great and good a man as his friend and neighbor Allen Brigs.
Before retiring to rest, Mr. Dobbs acquainted himself with the characters before him, by conversing with them, and each of them, on various topics; and found to his satisfaction that they were kind and noble-hearted people. The characteristic traits of Mr. Brigs were rough and unique, yet there was a generous frankness about him—such a flow of spirits and good humor—that he considered him a pleasant man. Nor was Mrs. Brigs unlike her husband in these particulars. To tell the truth, Mr. Dobbs was pleased. More than once did he get a full view of the sweet face of Nanny; and more than once did Nanny blush to catch his eye. Timothy admired her modest looks, and fancied that he might one day love her. He wondered how old she was, and blest his luck that he had fallen into that particular family, where such a beautiful face as hers might shed its sunny smiles about him—perhaps to cheer many of his tedious moments. He fancied she must be young, yet she seemed already expanding into womanhood. Such perfect symmetry of form, and grace of carriage, he had never seen in a country girl: and then the rich intelligence that beamed through her soft dark eyes, convinced him that she was born to follow some more noble pursuit than housewifery.
The hour grew late, and Timothy bade good-night, and crept softly to his room, where fatigue soon lulled him to sleep. But he dreamed! Yes, he dreamed of one sweet angelic being, whom he had only seen once—only once—and that sweet being was Nanny!
“Zooks!” said Mr. Brigs, after Timothy had left the parlor—“but he seems to be a clever youth. Nanny, what do you think of him—eh?”