第66章

To employ the figure of Burrill, Tembarom was indeed "as pleased as Punch." He was one of the large number of men who, apart from all sentimental relations, are made particularly happy by the kindly society of women; who expand with quite unconscious rejoicing when a woman begins to take care of them in one way or another.The unconsciousness is a touching part of the condition.The feminine nearness supplies a primeval human need.The most complete of men, as well as the weaklings, feel it.It is a survival of days when warm arms held and protected, warm hands served, and affectionate voices soothed.An accomplished male servant may perform every domestic service perfectly, but the fact that he cannot be a woman leaves a sense of lack.An accustomed feminine warmth in the surrounding daily atmosphere has caused many a man to marry his housekeeper or even his cook, as circumstances prompted.

Tembarom had known no woman well until he had met Little Ann.His feeling for Mrs.Bowse herself had verged on affection, because he would have been fond of any woman of decent temper and kindliness, especially if she gave him opportunities to do friendly service.

Little Ann had seemed the apotheosis of the feminine, the warmly helpful, the subtly supporting, the kind.She had been to him an amazement and a revelation.She had continually surprised him by revealing new characteristics which seemed to him nicer things than he had ever known before, but which, if he had been aware of it, were not really surprising at all.They were only the characteristics of a very nice young feminine creature.

The presence of Miss Alicia, with the long-belated fashion of her ringlets and her little cap, was delightful to him.He felt as though he would like to take her in his arms and hug her.He thought perhaps it was partly because she was a little like Ann, and kept repeating his name in Ann's formal little way.Her delicate terror of presuming or intruding he felt in its every shade.Mentally she touched him enormously.He wanted to make her feel that she need not be afraid of him in the least, that he liked her, that in his opinion she had more right in the house than he had.He was a little frightened lest through ignorance he should say things the wrong way, as he had said that thing about wanting to know what she expected him to do.What he ought to have said was, "You're not expecting me to let that sort of thing go on." It had made him sick when he saw what a break he'd made and that she thought he was sort of insulting her.The room seemed all right now that she was in it.Small and unassuming as she was, she seemed to make it less over-sized.He didn't so much mind the loftiness of the ceiling, the depth and size of the windows, and the walls covered with thousands of books he knew nothing whatever about.

The innumerable books had been an oppressing feature.If he had been one of those "college guys" who never could get enough of books, what a "cinch" the place would have been for him--good as the Astor Library! He hadn't a word to say against books,--good Lord! no;--but even if he'd had the education and the time to read, he didn't believe he was naturally that kind, anyhow.You had to be "that kind" to know about books.He didn't suppose she-- meaning Miss Alicia--was learned enough to make you throw a fit.She didn't look that way, and he was mighty glad of it, because perhaps she wouldn't like him much if she was.It would worry her when she tried to talk to him and found out he didn't know a darned thing he ought to.

They'd get on together easier if they could just chin about common sort of every-day things.But though she didn't look like the Vassar sort, he guessed that she was not like himself: she had lived in libraries before, and books didn't frighten her.She'd been born among people who read lots of them and maybe could talk about them.That was why she somehow seemed to fit into the room.He was aware that, timid as she was and shabby as her neat dress looked, she fitted into the whole place, as he did not.She'd been a poor relative and had been afraid to death of old Temple Barholm, but she'd not been afraid of him because she wasn't his sort.She was a lady; that was what was the matter with her.It was what made things harder for her, too.It was what made her voice tremble when she'd tried to seem so contented and polite when she'd talked about going into one of those "decayed alms-houses." As if the old ladies were vegetables that had gone wrong, by gee! he thought.

He liked her little, modest, delicate old face and her curls and her little cap with the ribbons so much that he smiled with a twinkling eye every time he looked at her.He wanted to suggest something he thought would be mighty comfortable, but he was half afraid he might be asking her to do something which wasn't "her job," and it might hurt her feelings.But he ventured to hint at it.

"Has Burrill got to come back and pour that out?" he asked, with an awkward gesture toward the tea-tray."Has he just GOT to?""Oh, no, unless you wish it," she answered."Shall--may I give it to you?""Will you?" he exclaimed delightedly."That would be fine.I shall feel like a regular Clarence."She was going to sit at the table in a straight-backed chair, but he sprang at her.

"This big one is more comfortable," he said, and he dragged it forward and made her sit in it."You ought to have a footstool," he added, and he got one and put it under her feet."There, that's all right."A footstool, as though she were a royal personage and he were a gentleman in waiting, only probably gentlemen in waiting did not jump about and look so pleased.The cheerful content of his boyish face when he himself sat down near the table was delightful.

"Now," he said, "we can ring up for the first act."She filled the tea-pot and held it for a moment, and then set it down as though her feelings were too much for her.