“Not in the least!” He answered as if the subject was disagreeable to him—and yet he returned to it. “By-the-by, did you ever hear Benjulia’s name mentioned, at home in Italy?”
“Never! Did he know my father and mother?”
“He says so.”
“Oh, do introduce me to him!”
“We must wait a little. He prefers being introduced to the monkey to-day. Where are Miss Minerva and the children?”
Teresa replied. She pointed to the monkey-house, and then drew Ovid aside. “Take her to see some more birds, and trust me to keep the governess out of your way,” whispered the good creature. “Make love—hot love to her, doctor!”
In a minute more the cousins were out of sight. How are you to make love to a young girl, after an acquaintance of a day or two? The question would have been easily answered by some men. It thoroughly puzzled Ovid.
“I am so glad to get back to you!” he said, honestly opening his mind to her. “Were you half as glad when you saw me return?”
He knew nothing of the devious and serpentine paths by which love finds the way to its ends. It had not occurred to him to approach her with those secret tones and stolen looks which speak for themselves. She answered with the straightforward directness of which he had set the example.
“I hope you don’t think me insensible to your kindness,” she said. “I am more pleased and more proud than I can tell you.”