"Dick," said Harry, "should you be astonished to learn that the respectable uncle Bunker is a mighty great rogue? But say nothing, Dick. Say nothing. Let me consider how to bring the thing home to him."
CHAPTER XXX. THE PROFESSOR'S PROPOSAL.
When the professor called upon Angela that same Sunday morning and requested an interview, she perceived that something serious was intended. He had on, as if for an occasion, a new coat with a flower in the buttonhole, a chrysanthemum. His face was extremely solemn, and his fingers, which always seemed restless and dissatisfied unless they were making things disappear and come again, were quite still.
Certainly, he had something on his mind.
The drawing-room had one or two girls in it, who were reading and talking, though they ought to have been in church—Angela left their religious duties to their own consciences. But the dining-room was empty and the interview was held there.
The professor had certainly made up in his own mind exactly what was going to be said: he had dramatized the situation—a very good plan if you are quite sure of the replies; otherwise, you are apt to be put out.
"Miss Kennedy," he began, with a low voice, "allow me, first of all, to thank you for your great kindness during a late season of depression."
"I am very glad it is a late season," said Angela; "that means, I presume, that the depression has passed away."
"Quite, I am glad to say; in fact," the professor laughed cheerfully, "I have got engagements from now to nearly the end of April in the country, and am in treaty for a West-End engagement in May. Industry and application, not to speak of talent, will make their way in the long run. But I hope I am none the less grateful to you for your loan—let me call it a loan—when things were tight. I assure you, Miss Kennedy, that the run into the country, after those parish registers, was as good as a week's engagement, simple as it looked, and as for that Saturday night for your girls——"