Part 30 (2/2)

But Peter's social gadding did not end with these bread-and-b.u.t.ter calls. One afternoon in March, he went into the shop of a famous picture-dealer, to look over an exhibition then advertised, and had nearly finished his patient examination of each picture, which always involved quite as much mental gymnastics as aesthetic pleasure to Peter, when he heard a pleasant:

”How do you do, Mr. Stirling?”

Turning, he found Miss De Voe and a well-dressed man at his elbow.

Peter's face lighted up in a way which made the lady say to herself: ”I wonder why he wouldn't buy another ticket?” Aloud she said, ”I want you to know another of my cousins. Mr. Ogden, Mr. Stirling.”

”Charmed,” said Mr. Ogden genially. Any expression which Peter had thought of using seemed so absolutely lame, beside this pa.s.sive participle, that he merely bowed.

”I did not know you cared for pictures,” said Miss De Voe.

”I see most of the public exhibitions,” Peter told her. ”I try to like them.”

Miss De Voe looked puzzled.

”Don't,” said Mr. Ogden. ”I tried once, when I first began. But it's much easier to notice what women say, and answer 'yes' and 'no' at the right points.”

Peter looked puzzled.

”Nonsense, Lispenard,” said Miss De Voe. ”He's really one of the best connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling.”

”There,” said Lispenard. ”You see. Only agree with people, and they think you know everything.”

”I suppose you have seen the pictures, and so won't care to go round with us?” inquired Miss De Voe.

”I've looked at them, but I should like to go over again with you,” said Peter. Then he added, ”if I shan't be in the way.”

”Not a bit,” said Lispenard heartily. ”My cousin always wants a listener. It will be a charity to her tongue and my ears.” Miss De Voe merely gave him a very pleasant smile. ”I wonder why he wouldn't buy a ticket?” she thought.

Peter was rather astonished at the way they looked at the pictures. They would pa.s.s by a dozen without giving them a second glance, and then stop at one, and chat about it for ten minutes. He found that Miss De Voe had not exaggerated her cousin's art knowledge. He talked familiarly and brilliantly, though making constant fun of his own opinions, and often jeering at the faults of the picture. Miss De Voe also talked well, so Peter really did supply the ears for the party. He was very much pleased when they both praised a certain picture.

”I liked that,” he told them, making the first remark (not a question) which he had yet made. ”It seemed to me the best here.”

”Unquestionably,” said Lispenard. ”There is poetry and feeling in it.”

Miss De Voe said: ”That is not the one I should have thought of your liking.”

”That's womanly,” said Lispenard, ”they are always deciding what a man should like.”

”No,” denied Miss De Voe. ”But I should think with your liking for children, that you would have preferred that piece of Brown's, rather than this sad, desolate sand-dune.”

”I cannot say why I like it, except, that I feel as if it had something to do with my own mood at times.”

”Are you very lonely?” asked Miss De Voe, in a voice too low for Lispenard to hear.

”Sometimes,” said Peter, simply.

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