Even the Doctor had said, "You have reason to be proud of your boy, Squire. I trust that in time he may join piety to prudence."
"Hope he may, hope he may, Doctor," said the Squire. "Fine stout lad, isn't he, Doctor?"
Of course Phil had met early with Reuben, and with the fresh spirit of their old school-days. Phil had very likely been advised of the experiences which had brought Reuben again to Ashfield, and of the questionable result,—for even this had become subject of village gossip; but of such matters there was very coy mention on the part of young Elderkin. Phil's world-knowledge had given him wise hints on this score. And as for Reuben, the encounter with such frank, outspoken heartiness and manliness as belonged to his old school-friend was, after his weary mental struggle of the last few months, immensely refreshing.
"Phil, my good fellow, your coming is a great godsend to me. I've been worrying at the theologies here: but it's blind work. I think I shall get back to business again."
"But you haven't made it blind for Adèle, Reuben.—so they tell me."
"And it is true. Faith, Phil, if I could win her beautiful trusts I would give my right arm,—indeed, I would."
"But she's not blue," said Phil; "she's as cheery and mirthful as I ever saw her."
"There's the beauty of it," said Reuben. "Many women carry their faith with a face as long and as dull as a sermon. But, by Jove, her face bubbles over with laughter as easily as it ever did."
Sister Rose had, of course, met Phil on his return most gushingly. There is something very beautiful in that warm sisterly affection which at a certain age can put no bounds to its admiring pride. There is a fading away of it as the years progress, and as the sisters drop into little private clamorous circles of their own, and look out upon other people through the spectacles of their husband's eyes,—as they are pretty apt to do; but for a long period following upon the school age it is very tender and beautiful. If Phil had been coarse, or selfish, or awkward, or ten times the sinner in any way that he was, Rose would most surely have found some charming little excuse for each and every sin, and delighted in reflecting upon him the glow of her own purity.
Of course she insists coyly upon his making the village rounds with her. Those intellectual ladies, the Misses Hapgood, must have an opportunity of admiring his grand air, and the easy manner he has brought back with him of entering a parlor, or of passing the compliments of the day: and, indeed, those respectable old ladies do pay him the honor of keeping him in waiting, until they can arrange their best frontlets, and present themselves in their black silks and in kerchiefs wet with lavender. Now little Rose maintains an admiring and eager silence while that rare brother astonishes these good Ashfield ladies with the great splendors of his walk and conversation.