Seems to have no social nor affectionate instincts. It would be a good
thing to make him feel their value, to begin with."
"I'll make it as home-like for him as I can, Professor Valeyon."
"Well, well! I meant to ask you to do it. It'll be a new experience for
him. He's never known a mother since he was a baby, and his father
was--well!"--the old man checked himself--"his father is just dead." He
seemed about to add something more in regard to the deceased gentleman,
but forbore, glancing narrowly at Abbie, who looked only grave and
thoughtful.
"How old is he? A boy?" she asked, presently.
"Boyish in some ways, but must be twenty-five or six, and looks older. A
tall fellow, well made."
"He might still be a son of mine," said Abbie, with another dim smile,
and a sigh. "Perhaps it would do me no harm to consider him as such.
Would that satisfy you?"
"Just what I want!" exclaimed the professor heartily, and with
heightened color. "Something can be made of him, I think," he added;
"but a great deal depends on the sort of treatment he eats and sleeps
under. Well, you be motherly to him, Abbie. That's all I have to ask.
You will find good in it for yourself, too, as you say: more than you
think, very likely."
She sighed again, playing absently with her fingers upon her
dark-colored dress, and gazing out of the window.
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