Part 5 (1/2)

”Glad to have you,” said Peter, wondering what Jane would say to this second unexpected introduction.

Murray, as he walked slowly toward the house in Gay Street, felt distinctly glad of the chance. Since his illness he had led a lonely life, and he longed for comrades near at hand. From behind the curtains he had done not a little watching of the coming and going in Gay Street, and had been strongly attracted toward each one of the household across the way. He liked the faces of those people. He had wished that he could make their acquaintance.

”Walk in!” invited Peter, throwing the door hospitably open; and Murray, his quick, curious eyes taking in everything at a glance, entered the small front room, which was just then unoccupied. He heard voices and laughter near at hand, but for the moment, while Peter went to summon his mother, he had time to look about him.

There was not very much in the room, and there was nothing of value, as that word was used in the Townsend house, yet the visitor could not help finding the place warmly attractive. There was a homelike look about it, and there was an indefinable air of refinement. The furniture was old and very nearly shabby, but it was not the cheap and tawdry furniture one might have expected to find in such a house. The pictures on the walls were all good copies of great pictures, or photographs set under gla.s.s. Piles of music lay on the old-fas.h.i.+oned square piano, and a few papers and magazines, all of good selection, were upon the table, in the centre of which burned a brilliant lamp. But most of all, the character of the household was shown by the books--as it inevitably is.

Of these there were a surprising number. Murray felt his respect for the Bell family rising immensely as he noted the contents of the rows of home-made book-shelves. They were in plain, worn bindings, most of them, quite unlike the stately rows in the great library at home; but they were the same old friends, in common clothes, and Murray rejoiced at the sight.

Peter was quickly back, bringing with him the lady whom Murray recognised as the mother of the family. She _was_ a lady--no doubt of that. He had been sure of it before. Now, as he listened to her voice--the test incontrovertible--he knew beyond question.

She greeted him cordially. He was charmed with her face, with her manner, with everything about her. Then Peter brought all the others in, and Murray shook hands with them all. s.h.i.+rley appeared, clinging to Nancy's hands, and s.h.i.+rley was so happy, and begged so hard in his ear to stay a few minutes longer, that he willingly delayed their departure.

Fine fellows, Peter and Ross and Rufus proved to be on acquaintance.

Not in the least overawed by the presence of the rich man's son from Worthington Square, they talked business and football and politics and various other things in those few minutes, in a hearty, half-boyish, decidedly manly fas.h.i.+on that he thoroughly enjoyed.

It happened that Murray said less to Jane than to any of the others, but he noticed her not a little. He thought he had never seen a girl who looked so spirited and sweet and gay and gentle all in one. He felt that his sister Olive must learn to know her at once, that she might learn what it is to be pretty without seeming aware of the fact, and how it is possible to make a stranger feel wholly at his ease without appearing to exercise any arts.

”I suppose I ought to be taking my sister home,” Murray said at last, getting to his feet. ”The truth is, she has wanted to know Miss Nancy since she first saw her, and so----”

”Murray wanted to know you, too,” said s.h.i.+rley, in Nancy's ear; but as her brother paused, the words were audible to everybody.

”To know _me_?” queried Nancy, in surprise, and everybody smiled.

”I'm sure my mother and sister will call--soon,” said Murray, trying to feel sure of that rather doubtful proposition as he made it.

The moment would have been an awkward one in some small houses, for it was impossible not to remember that the Worthington Squares do not make many calls in the Gay Streets, but young Rufus, studying s.h.i.+rley with interest, broke in, without intention, upon his mother's reply. Rufus was quite untroubled by the social inequalities existing between localities divided only by a stone's throw.

”That 's a dandy tennis-court you will have there when you put it out,”

he remarked.

”It's pretty fair--and we shall have it in shape early this year,”

replied Murray, smiling. There was a beauty about Murray's rare smile which quite transformed his pale face. His eyes met Jane's as he spoke.

”It 's too bad to grow up past the point of breaking the ice so easily, is n't it?” she said, merrily, as he shook hands.

”We 'll have to follow their wise example,” he replied.

”I hope that you 'll find your way over to Gay Street often in the future,” declared Peter, shaking hands.

”I mean to, thank you, if you'll let me?” Murray looked into Mrs.

Bell's eyes, and a shade of wistfulness crept into his own, which she saw, and recognising, was sure she understood.

”Please come, if you care to,” she said, cordially, and he felt her warm, firm hand give his a friendly pressure, which quite completed the capturing of his heart.

A ringing step on the porch outside, a knock at the door--it boasted no bell--and everybody looked up surprised, for it was nearly ten o'clock.

Ross opened the door.