“As if he’d understand a word of it, my dear Algernon! Besides, I thought it quite enough for you to snatch one brand at a time from the burning.”
“Ah, Polly, I shouldn’t like to stand in your shoes on the Last Day,” he answered, with twinkling eyes.
“I very much doubt if you could get into them,” replied Miss Ley quickly, protruding a small and elegant foot.
“The sin of pride, my dear!” said the Dean, shaking his finger at her. “Pride of all sorts, for not Lucifer himself was more satisfied with the excellence of his understanding.”
“I don’t care, Algernon—if I frizzle, I frizzle,” laughed Miss Ley. “I know I’m no fool, and after all, my gloves are sixes.”
Tea was brought in, and presently Herbert Field made his appearance. The Dean, who liked all young things, shook hands with him warmly.
“I’ve heard about you from Bella. I don’t know why she has never before allowed me to set eyes on you.”
He talked to the boy about his old school, and finding him interested in the antiquities of Tercanbury, gave way to his own enthusiasm. He fetched from his study certain lately-acquired plates of old churches in that city, and Bella watched the pair, the youth’s fair head contrasting with her father’s white hair and benign face, bending over them under the lamp. She was delighted with the friendship that seemed about to spring up between them, and wished with all her heart that they might thus spend many charming evenings interchanging views on books and pictures; while she sat by tending them as though both were her children.
“Now that you’ve broken the ice, you must come again often,” said the Dean, holding the boy’s hand, when Herbert bade him good-bye. “I must show you my library; and, if you’re fond of old books, I dare say there are some I have in duplicate which you might care to have.”
“It’s very kind of you,” answered Herbert, flushing, for the Dean’s old-fashioned courtesy was a little overwhelming, and the stately kindness hard to bear when soon he must distress him so enormously by taking away his daughter.