“Awkward, but not a cub; say rather a black swan; and you know, uncle, a swan is an awkward thing on land, but when it takes the water it is glorious, and that man was glorious; but—­Da—­vid Do—­dd.”

“I don’t know whether he was glorious, but I know he amused me, and I’ll have him to tea three times a week while he lasts.”

“Uncle, do you believe such an unfortunate combination of sounds is his real name?” asked Lucy, gravely.

“Why, who would be mad enough to feign such a name?”

“That is true; but now tell me—­if he should ever, think of marrying with such a name?”

“Then there will be two David Dodd’s in the world, Mr. and Mrs.”

“I don’t think so; he will be merciful, and take her name instead of she his; he is so good-natured.”

“Ordinary sponsors would have been content with Samuel or Nathan; but no, this one’s must, call in ‘apt alliteration’s artful aid,’ and have the two ‘d’s.’”

Lucy assented with a smile, and so, being no longer under the spell of the enthusiast and the male, the genealogist and the fine lady took the rise out of what Miss Fountain was pleased to call his impossible title,

Da—­vid Dodd.

CHAPTER III.

LUCY was not called on to write any more formal invitations to Mr. Talboys.  Her uncle used merely to say to her:  “Talboys dines with us to-day.”  She made no remark; she respected her uncle’s preference; besides—­the pony!  Of these trios Mr. Fountain was the true soul.  He had to blow the coals of conversation right and left.  It is very good of me not to compare him to the Tropic between two frigid zones.  At first he took his nap as usual; for he said to himself:  “Now I have started them they can go on.”  Besides, he had seen pictures in the shop windows of an old fellow dozing and then the young ones “popping.”

Dozing off with this idea uppermost, he used to wake with his eyes shut and his ears wide open; but it was to hear drowsy monosyllables dropping out at intervals like minute-guns, or to find Lucy gone and Talboys reading the coals.  Then the schemer sighed, and took to strong coffee soon after dinner, and gave up his nap, and its loss impaired his temper the rest of the evening.

He indemnified himself for these sleepless dinners by asking David Dodd and his sister to tea thrice a week on the off-nights; this joyous pair amused the old gentleman, and he was not the man to deny himself a pleasure without a powerful motive.

“What, again so soon?” hazarded Lucy, one day that he bade her invite them.  “I hardly know how to word my invitation; I have exhausted the forms.”

“If you say another word, I’ll make them come every night.  Am I to have no amusement?” he added, in a deep tone of reproach; “they make me laugh.”

“Ah!  I forgot; forgive me.”

“Little hypocrite; don’t they you too, pray?  Why, you are as dull as ditchwater the other evenings.”