Part 22 (2/2)
”Yes,” said Elsie, fixing her eyes quietly on his face; ”very much better than he did when he came home from town.”
Williamson admired her courage.
”For which you held me to blame!” he said.
”Partly to blame.”
”Well, I see you're trying to be fair, though I'm half afraid you failed. But since you meant to raise this point, I must warn you against looking at things out of their right perspective. It makes those in the foreground appear too big.”
”You mean one should not exaggerate their relative importance?”
”Exactly. You must, for example, allow for the exhilarating effect a change of air has on a young man fresh from the country who spends a few days in town. Remember that d.i.c.k leads a very quiet and monotonous life at Appleyard.”
”A sober life is much the best for him.”
Williamson wondered whether she spoke with nave girlish prudery; if not, there was something he ought to know.
”Perhaps it's best for everybody; but we don't all like it, and a change is bracing,” he answered with a smile. ”I suppose you are looking at the thing from the moral standpoint.”
”Not exclusively. d.i.c.k will soon be master at Appleyard, and that will bring him duties he ought to be fitting himself for. Then you may not know that he is not very strong.”
”I guessed something of the kind, but a few late nights and a little excitement can't do much harm.”
Elsie looked at him with thoughtful eyes.
”Possibly not, in most cases, but they are bad for d.i.c.k.”
”If you would be quite frank it would help.” Williamson was anxious to learn why quietness was necessary for the lad. ”We might get on better if we understood each other.”
”Have I not been frank? You could hardly have expected me to say as much as I have, even. But I am not d.i.c.k's doctor.”
Williamson felt baffled, but he would not show it.
”You feel that I ought to have looked after d.i.c.k better. I think that's hardly just, because I have, of course, no control over him.”
”You are an older man, and he is easily led. A hint would have gone a long way, and he doesn't resent good-humored firmness from those he likes.”
”You suggest that he likes me?”
”One can't tell,” said Elsie in a quiet voice.
”Well, you must see how awkwardly I'm placed. I can't defend myself without attacking d.i.c.k, and you wouldn't like that. Suppose I hinted that he insisted on following his bent although I tried to restrain him?”
”Did you?”
Williamson hesitated, which was an unusual thing. He had no sentimental respect for girlish inexperience, but he could not make the direct statement that would have cleared him. He reflected with a touch of ironical amus.e.m.e.nt that Elsie would not be deceived.
<script>