Osborne made his appearance a considerable time before luncheon
the next morning; and no one objected to the earliness of his call.
He was feeling better. There were few signs of the invalid about
him; and what few there were disappeared under the bright pleasant
influence of such a welcome as he received from all. Molly and
Cynthia had much to tell him of the small proceedings since he went
away, or to relate the conclusions of half-accomplished projects.
Cynthia was often on the point of some gay, careless inquiry as
to where he had been, and what he had been doing; but Molly, who
conjectured the truth, as often interfered to spare him the pain of
equivocation--a pain that her tender conscience would have felt for
him, much more than he would have felt it for himself.
Mrs. Gibson's talk was desultory, complimentary, and sentimental,
after her usual fashion; but still, on the whole, though Osborne
smiled to himself at much that she said, it was soothing and
agreeable. Presently, Dr. Nicholls and Mr. Gibson came in; the former
had had some conference with the latter on the subject of Osborne's
health; and, from time to time, the skilful old physician's sharp and
observant eyes gave a comprehensive look at Osborne.
Then there was lunch, when every one was merry and hungry, excepting
the hostess, who was trying to train her midday appetite into
the genteelest of all ways, and thought (falsely enough) that Dr.
Nicholls was a good person to practise the semblance of ill-health
upon, and that he would give her the proper civil amount of
commiseration for her ailments, which every guest ought to bestow
upon a hostess who complains of her delicacy of health. The old
doctor was too cunning a man to fall into this trap. He would keep
recommending her to try the coarsest viands on the table; and, at
last, he told her if she could not fancy the cold beef to try a
little with pickled onions. There was a twinkle in his eye as he said
this, that would have betrayed his humour to any observer; but Mr.
Gibson, Cynthia, and Molly were all attacking Osborne on the subject
of some literary preference he had expressed, and Dr. Nicholls had
Mrs. Gibson quite at his mercy. She was not sorry when luncheon was
over to leave the room to the three gentlemen; and ever afterwards
she spoke of Dr. Nicholls as "that bear."
Presently, Osborne came upstairs, and, after his old fashion, began
to take up new books, and to question the girls as to their music.
Mrs. Gibson had to go out and pay some calls, so she left the three
together; and after a while they adjourned into the garden, Osborne
lounging on a chair, while Molly employed herself busily in tying up
carnations, and Cynthia gathered flowers in her careless, graceful
way.