As if divining his wishes in the matter, his mother turned to the
eagerly expectant doctor, whom she introduced as "My son, Dr. Richards."
Alice had heard much of Dr. Richards from the young girls of Snowdon.
She had heard his voice in the Psalter, his responses in the Litany, and
accepted it as a sign of marked improvement. He could not be as
irreverent and thoughtless as he had been represented by those who did
not like him; he must have changed during his absence, and she frankly
offered him her hand, and with a smile which he felt even to his finder
tips, welcomed him home, making some trivial remark touching the
contrast between their quiet town and the cities he had left.
"But you will help make it pleasanter for us this winter, I am sure,"
she continued, and the sweet blue eyes sought his for an answer as to
whether he would desert Snowdon immediately.
What a weak, vacillating creature is man before a pretty woman like
Alice Johnson. Twenty-four hours ago, and the doctor would have scoffed
at the idea that he should tarry longer than a week or two at the
farthest in that dull by-place, where the people were only half
civilized; but now the tables were turned as by magic. Snowdon was as
pretty a rural village as New England could boast, and he meant to enjoy
it for a while. It would be a relief after the busy life he had led, and
was just the change he needed! So, in answer to Alice's remark, he said
he should probably remain at home some time, that he always found it
rather pleasant at Snowdon, though as a boy he had, he supposed, often
chafed at its dullness; but he saw differently now. Besides, it could
not now be dull, with the acquisition it had received since he was there
before; and he bowed gracefully toward the young lady, who acknowledged
the compliment with a faint blush, and then turned toward the group of
"noisy, ill-bred children," as Dr. Richards thought, who came thronging
about her.
"My Sabbath school scholars," Alice said, as if in answer to these
mental queries, "Ah, here comes my youngest--my pet," and Alice stooped
to caress a little rosy-cheeked boy, with bright brown eyes and patches
on both coat sleeves.
The doctor saw the patches, but not the handsome face, and with a
gesture of impatience, turned to go, just as his ear caught another
kiss, and he knew the patched boy received what he would have given much
to have.
"Hanged if I don't half wish I was one of those ragged urchins," he
said, after handing his mother and sisters to their carriage, and
seating himself at their side. "But does not Miss Johnson display
strange taste? Surely some other one less refined might be found to look
after those brats, if they must be looked after, which I greatly doubt.
Better leave them, as you find them; can't elevate them if you try. It's
trouble thrown away."