“No—­into the sitting-room,” said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the dining-room.

John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did, surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables.  He experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to her—­that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in John’s mind was mysteriously connected with his romance.  It is one of the most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor.  They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious existence, with the object of their affections.  They desire the world of love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their experience, it must be rich.  The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have been accustomed to in their own lives.  King Cophetua, being a king, could afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a “lady who loved a swine,” but the names of the poor young men who have loved above their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring.  John saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without the smallest second thought was pleased.  In a few moments she entered the room.  John had his speech ready.

“I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go with you,” he said glibly, as she gave him her hand.

“Oh—­thanks.  But is not it rather early?”

“It is twenty minutes past ten,” said John, looking at the clock.

“Well, let us get warm before starting,” said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down by the fire.  “It is so cold this morning.”

John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time.  She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing.  She was still a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had anything to say.

“Yes,” said John, “it is very cold—­traditional Christmas weather.  Could not be finer, in fact, could it?”

“No—­it could not be finer,” echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile.  Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse to the conversation, she added, “By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?”

She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it did.  John’s heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight.  Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar.