“The time maybe’d be better from a bran new watch.”

I did not linger to hear more of their badinage, but the look of satisfaction on Samuel’s face found a reflection in my own heart, and I wondered in what way I could have spent a few dollars to procure a larger amount of happiness.  We had quite a large dinner party that evening.  Mr. Hill, our minister, was there, with his wife and grown-up daughter, and some half-dozen others of our Cavendish acquaintances.  I found the hour at dinner rather heavy and tiresome.  My neighbors on my right and left being—­the one a regular diner-out whose conversation was mostly gustatory, and the other a youth whose ideas never seemed to rise above the part of his hair or cut of his garments.  I noticed Mr. Bovyer sitting further up on the other side of the table looking quite as bored as I felt, his next neighbor being a young lady the exact counterpart in ideas and aims of the youth beside me.  The dinner itself was a triumph of cook’s skill, and, as is usually the case with a dinner suitably prepared, its effect was composing.  Mr. Winthrop neither drank wine nor smoked, and did not encourage these habits in his guests; so that we all left the table together and proceeded to the drawing-room.  I was the last of the ladies to pass from the room, and Mr. Bovyer joined me and accompanied me into the drawing-room.  I was getting interested in his conversation, when Mr. Winthrop came and urged for some music.

“It is impossible just now; I do not feel as if I could do justice even to ‘Hail Columbia.’”

“Then, Medoline, you will give us some of your German songs, and, by the time you are through, Mr. Bovyer will be in the mood to enchant us.”

“With the exception of our school examinations, I never played before so many persons in my life.  I shall find it very hard,” I said, already beginning to tremble with nervousness.

“It will be an excellent opportunity to display your ring.”

My face crimsoned.  Possibly I had allowed the hand that wore my diamond ring a little too much freedom; but the sparkle of the beautiful gem, that just now reminded me of a huge tear-drop, pleased me; for I was still much of a child at heart.

As we were crossing the room, I said:  “It is not good taste for me to take the piano first.  There are others here who should have been invited.”

“Tut, child; I never ask them.  They would distract me with their noise.”

“Is that not an indirect compliment for me?” I said, looking up at him, my good humor partially restored.

“I shall be compelled to designate you the mark of interrogation—­call you rogue for shortness.”

“After this morning’s experience, I shall not be able to find any name nice enough for you,” I said, gently.

“That is cruel—­literally smothering me with coals of fire.”

I turned over my music with trembling fingers; for, more than all, I dreaded Mr. Bovyer.  Selecting one of the simplest songs, I sat down, determined to go resolutely through with it.  When I ceased, I found that Mr. Bovyer had joined us.  I rose hastily.  “I am so glad you have come; you will reward my obedience to Mr. Winthrop, surely?”