Part 16 (1/2)

”Oh, she's only been here about two weeks,” his wife answered.

”Ah, I was thinking of her predecessor, a most wonderful cat, with a keen sense of propriety, never disturbing the loose ends of thought that a student suffers to lie upon his table.”

Mrs. Dolihide agreed that the other cat was good enough, but that she had fits, and in his way Milford acknowledged that fits, while not necessarily arguing a want of merit, could not avoid giving an erratic cast even to most p.r.o.nounced worth. This was all the Professor needed, and he forthwith launched a s.h.i.+p of disquisition, but when he had fully rigged it and neatly trimmed its sails, his wife broke in with the remark that the country was overrun with common people from the city.

One would naturally expect noisy uncouthness, and a lack in many instances of refined reading, but--

”My dear,” the Professor interrupted, ”you must bear in mind that the minor summer resort is a kind of Castle Garden, with now and then a s.h.i.+ning exception. Here we have the drudges of trade. Am I right, Mr.

Milford?”

”Yes, the experiments, the hagglers and the failures.”

The Professor slapped his leg. ”A goodly remark, sir; upon my soul, a worthy ill.u.s.tration.”

”And I have a good deal of fault to find with the home society,” said Mrs. Dolihide. ”It is jagged and raw, with a constant scuffle after the dollar--”

”The necessary dollar,” observed the Professor.

”The scarce dollar,” she replied.

”And therefore necessary, my dear. But you are right as to society.

There are many good people here, excellent families, but the rank and file are common scratchers of the soil. But they thrive, a reproach to men of more intelligence. And now, sir,” he added, turning to Milford, ”upon what does success depend? Mind? Oh, no. Industry? No. What then?

Temperament. Temperament is of itself a success. It--”

”Supper,” said a young woman appearing in the door.

At the table Milford was presented to Miss Katherine Dolihide, slim, cold and prettyish. She might have had a respect for her father's learning, but it was evident that she held his failure in contempt. With her, a mind that gathered the trinkets of knowledge and fell short of providing luxuries for the body could not be reckoned among the virtues.

Wisdom's reflected light was dimmer than an earring. She looked at Milford, and he felt that he failed to reach her mark. She gave him, he thought, the dry and narrow smile of ironic pity. She asked him if he liked the country. He answered that he did, and she remarked that it was a crude picture daubed with green. There were no old mills. She loved old mills; no country was beautiful without them. Had she seen old mills? No, she had not, but she had read of them and had found them scattered throughout the pages of art. She acknowledged after a time that the lakes were charming, the woods replete with sweet dreaming, the lanes full of a vagabond fancy, tinkers of imagination sleeping under the leaves; but without a ruined mill there could be no perfect rest for the mind. Milford knew that this was a pretense, not from any psychological reasoning, but because she was so unlike the Norwegian girl. To him there was more of conviction in silent opposites than in noisy arguments.

”I heard of you the other night over at the honey sociable,” she said.

”Honey sociable?”

”Yes, honey and biscuit for the benefit of the church. Quite a unique affair, and wholly new to me, I a.s.sure you. A Mrs. Blakemore was present and spoke of you; she said it was a pity that you hadn't come to tell stories of the West. A very intelligent woman, don't you think?”

”Yes, I guess she is.”

”But the most intelligent woman over there,” said the Professor, ”is Mrs. Goodwin.”

”Over where?” his wife asked.

”Why, over at Mrs. Stuvic's.”

”When did you meet her?”

”Why--er--let me see. I was pa.s.sing, stepped in to get a drink of water, and was presented to the lady by Mrs. Stuvic. I didn't stay long, mind you, but long enough to discover the lady's intelligence. Mr. Milford, it may take years to discover a comet, sir, but intelligence, brighter in quality, s.h.i.+nes out at once. Pa.s.s your cup.”

”You didn't tell me you'd met her,” said Mrs. Dolihide.

”Didn't I mention it? I thought I did. Speaking of this part of the country, Mr. Milford, is like discussing a new picture with old spots on it; but all great pictures were once new. Take the view, for instance, from our veranda. Nothing could be more charming. The gra.s.s land, with scattered trees, trim and graceful in their individuality, the cattle beneath them, the woods beyond, and--”