Allen was always so gentle,
courteous, and melancholy, that every one was getting out of the
habit of expecting him to do anything but bring home news, discover
anything worth going to see, sit at the foot of the table, and give
his verdict on the cookery. Babie indeed was sometimes provoked into
snapping at him, but he bore it with the amiable magnanimity of one
who could forgive a petulant child, ignorant of what he suffered.
Jock was borne up by a great pleasure that winter. One day at
dinner, his mother watched his eyes dancing, and heard the old boyish
ring of mirth in his laugh, and as she went up stairs at night, he
came after and said—-
"Fancy, I met Evelyn on the ice to-day. He wants to know if he may
call."
"What prevents him?"
"Well, I believe the poor old chap is heartily ashamed of his airs.
Indeed he as good as said so. He has been longing to make a fresh
start, only he didn't know how."
"I think he used you very ill, Jock; but if you wish to be on the old
terms, I will do as you like."
"Well," said Jock, in an odd apologetic voice, "you see the old
beggar had got into a pig-headed sort of pet last year. He said he
would cut me if I left the service, and so he felt bound to be as
good as his word; but he seems to have felt lost without us, and to
have been looking out for a chance of meeting.
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