The fears of the household, however, were not justified. Dolff dutifully came home to lunch. Janet, who, instead of being offended and dwelling upon his rudeness, had not thought of him at all, save with a certain passing satisfaction such as moves a woman involuntarily when{100} she perceives that her own appearance has had the effect which it ought to produce—continued to be agreeably impressed during luncheon with the evident awe and admiration which she elicited from the son of the house. He was very quiet, not saying much, civil to his sisters, evidently disposed to please. His appearance did not impress Janet. He was colorless, like the rest of his family, with whiskers and a budding mustache, which, being very light, scarcely showed upon his face: and his form was wanting in those fine proportions which a girl’s imagination requires in a hero—the length of limb and commanding height. Dolff was not short, but he was thick, which neutralized his real stature. It is impossible to describe how civil he was—to everybody, to Priscilla when she handed him the potatoes; even to Ju—whom he called Julia. He inquired how she was getting on with her—history. Evidently he did not know what study he ought to inquire into, but selected that as most dignified. This continued during the whole day; for Dolff, to the evident amazement of his family, came in again at five o’clock and drank tea and ate bread-and-butter in large quantities.
“I did not think you ever took tea, Dolff,” said his mother, amazed.
“Oh, I think it’s very good for a fellow,” said Dolff; “better than—other drinks——”
“So do I, my dear,” cried his mother, fervently, and was about to make further remarks, even perhaps to improve the occasion, had Gussy not interposed with an imploring glance.
In the evening he suggested a game of backgammon with his mother; the power of virtue could no further go. The ladies kept a close but carefully-concealed watch upon him, expecting the moment when he would break loose, when he would exclaim that he must go out and get a little air, which generally meant that Dolff disappeared for the evening and was seen no more. But he endured like a man these hours of severe domesticity. He looked on while the ladies worked; he stood in front of the fire and told them stories of Oxford, condescending so far to their inferiority as to explain phrases and even to apologize for slang, as well as to throw in several passing biographies of “men” from other colleges with whom he had formed alliances. I could not assert authoritatively that Mrs. Harwood, or even Julia, enjoyed these stories, but they all expressed the utmost interest, plied him with questions, and did everything that could be done to prolong the autobiographical narrative. Occasionally a glance would pass between Mrs. Harwood and her elder daughter—a glance of{101} wonder and satisfaction. Dolff had turned over a new leaf! Dolff had passed without apparent difficulty a long, unbroken evening at home.
The next day Dolff continued in the same good dispositions. He even arranged his books in the little room that was called his study, and retired there for an hour or two to work, as he said. The ladies scarcely ventured to express their delight.
“There is no doubt that Dolff must have turned over a new leaf,” said Mrs. Harwood.
“It looks like it,” said Gussy, “but we must not build much on the first night.”
The second night, however, was even better than the first. Dolff made an offer to Julia to help her with her—history, which made that young lady open her eyes with consternation.
“I’ll come and give you a lecture, if you like—if Miss Summerhayes will let me,” he said. “I’m an awful dab at history. That’s my subject, don’t you know. I’ve given up classics, and I’m going in for history—does a fellow far more good in the world. I’ll give you a course of lectures if Miss Summerhayes has no objection.”
“Oh, no,” cried Janet, demurely, bending her head over her work to hide the laugh which she could scarcely restrain: for it would have been difficult to imagine anything more unlike an academical lecturer than Dolff as he stood, with his legs very wide apart, against the glowing background of the fire. “It would be to my own advantage as well as Julia’s,” she added, “if Mrs. Harwood would not think it too much——”
“Too much for—me?” asked Dolff. “Oh! mother would be delighted to think I was doing something. I’ll come up to-morrow and see what you’re about.”
“Well, Dolff, I am sure it is very good of you,” said Mrs. Harwood; “but I daresay what you learn at the University, where you have the first men to teach you, would perhaps be rather too much for a little girl.”
“Oh! if that is all! I think you might trust me, mother, to break it down into nice little scraps,” cried Dolff.
“It would only waste Ju’s time and keep her back from her—music and other things,” said Gussy, suspicious, though she did not well know why.
“Oh, Gussy!—when you know you have always said I never should do anything in music,” cried Julia, who saw prospects of fun and congenial idleness in Dolff’s proposal.
Janet had suppressed her laugh, and was very grave over her needlework. It was not for her to interfere.{102}
“We’ll think it over,” said Mrs. Harwood; “you don’t always think the same in the morning as in the evening, my dear boy. No doubt it would be for Julia’s advantage, for I don’t think, any more than Gussy, that she will ever do much at her music. I should like to see into it myself first, and whether it wouldn’t interfere with your time, and if you remain in the same mind, and so forth. We’ll think it over, Dolff.”
“I never knew that the mother considered herself clever about history before,” said Dolff, with a laugh. “And what’s all this about music? I’ve grown a great dab at music, too. You’ve had the piano open these two nights. Who plays? or sings, is it? Oh! I suppose it’s you, Gussy. Come along and let us hear.”
“I seldom sing alone,” said Gussy, with a blush.
“Well, come and sing with me. I’m your man. I’ve grown quite a dab at it this term. Anything to make the time pass. I thought it was something new when I saw the piano standing open.”
“It is nothing at all new, Dolff. Gussy has always had a very pretty voice. She is shy about it by herself, so she generally sings in duets or concerted pieces. But she has a very pretty voice, hasn’t she, Janet?”
“Are you musical, Miss Summerhayes?”
“She has a very sweet voice,” said Janet. “It came out beautifully the other night.”
“Are you musical, Miss Summerhayes?”
Janet paused, believing that some one would answer for her. Then she said.
“I play a little occasionally.”
“You could rattle over a little accompaniment?” said Dolff. “Oh, it’s not difficult—I could almost do it myself, only one can’............