The Doctor seemed reassured by the first sentence in Frank's reply, and seating himself at the table, wrote his answer—not hastily, as we English write, but with care and precision, like one accustomed to weigh the nature of words—in that stiff Italian hand, which allows the writer so much time to think while he forms his letters. He did not therefore reply at once to Frank's remark about the holidays, but was silent till he had concluded his note, read it three times over, sealed it by the taper he slowly lighted, and then, giving it to Frank, he said—
"For your sake, young gentleman, I regret that your holidays are so early; for mine, I must rejoice, since I accept the kind invitation you have rendered doubly gratifying by bringing it yourself."
"Deuce take the fellow and his fine speeches! One don't know which way to look," thought English Frank.
The Italian smiled again, as if this time he had read the boy's heart, without need of those piercing black eyes, and said, less ceremoniously than before, "You don't care much for compliments, young gentleman?"
"No, I don't indeed," said Frank heartily.
"So much the better for you, since your way in the world is made: it would be so much the worse if you had to make it!"
Frank looked puzzled: the thought was too deep for him—so he turned to the pictures.
"Those are very funny," said he: "they seem capitally done—who did 'em?"
"Signorino Hazeldean, you are giving me what you refused yourself."
"Eh?" said Frank, inquiringly.