AN EVENING AT DR. BRIER'S.
Every expected day comes at last,--not always, however, to realize the
expectations formed of it: but the evening of the reception in which we
are interested bade fair to be a most satisfactory one. The weather was
unusually fine, and the Doctor and Mrs. Brier were in such good spirits
that some of the visitors made special note of the fact.
I hardly know where to begin in attempting to describe an evening in
the House at Blackrock school.
As to stiffness and formality, there was not a vestige of it. The
Doctor was a gentleman, every inch of him, and ease is an essential
quality of gentlemanly behavior. It is not always an easy thing to be
easy, and all the Doctor's pupils were not miniature doctors, but
whatever else a boy might not have learned at Blackrock, he certainly
had a chance to learn to be gentlemanly.
So conversation flowed freely; the boys were encouraged to indulge in
hearty, unrestrained enjoyment, and no one could have heard the buzz of
voices and the sounds of merry laughter, or seen the beaming faces,
without feeling that all were perfectly at home.
The Doctor was wise in his generation, and he did not invite any of the
tutors to meet the boys. He pretty shrewdly guessed that their meetings
were quite as frequent as could be desired on either side, but he
always invited a few lady friends to join the party.
The Doctor had often been heard to say that while he would not declare
that either Greek or Hebrew was absolutely necessary for an ordinary
education, he was prepared to assert that no boy was educated unless he
knew how to feel at home and to behave with propriety in the society of
ladies.
Moreover, the Doctor was a great lover of music. Many of the boys also
loved it, and, when ladies were invited, those were generally selected
who could contribute to the pleasure of the evening.
Among the guests was one who will meet us again in the course of this
story. It was Madeleine Greenwood, the Doctor's niece, and Martin
Venables' cousin. I should like to describe her, but I will only say
that she was a young and very pretty sunshiny girl, and that everybody
who knew her liked her.
After tea, there were portfolios to examine, and books to turn over;
there was a bagatelle board in one corner of the room, a little group
busy upon some game of guessing in another corner, and another group
eagerly arranging specimens in a microscope, while the Doctor seemed to
be at each group at once.
"Now, come here," said Mrs. Brier to a little knot of boys who could
not find room by the Doctor and his microscope. "I will show you some
of my curiosities."
And she produced a little case, containing a curious old watch, set in
pearls; a snuff-box which had been in the possession of the family for
ages, and a variety of similar treasures. Among them was a miniature
painting, on ivory, of exquisite workmanship, and set in a gold frame,
which was studded with precious stones. It was as beautiful as it was
costly. The portrait was that of a young and lovely girl.
"What a sweet face," said Howard to Martin; "and how marvelously like
your cousin, Miss Greenwood!" And with a boyish enthusiasm joined to
boyish fun, he turned aside, so that Mrs. Brier should not see him, and
pretended to clasp the image to his breast.
"Oh, I have caught you, have I?" said Digby Morton, with his
disagreeable sneer, as, turning away from the Doctor's group, he came
abruptly upon Howard.
If Alick Fraser, or Martin, or McDonald, or any one of half a dozen
boys near him had made this observation, Howard wouldn't have minded
the least in the world, but coming from Digby, it made him nervous and
confused, especially as it was almost certain Mrs. Brier must have
heard it.
"Please let me see it," said Alick, who had only caught a passing
glimpse of it. "Surely it must be meant for Miss Greenwood?" he said,
after he had duly admired it.
"You are not the first who has thought so," said Mrs. Brier, "but it is
really a portrait of her grandmother, taken in her young days. But look
at this; I think it will interest you all. It is a curious ivory
carving, and is a puzzle which I should like to challenge any one to
explain."
And so this uncomfortable episode, the only one that occurred during
the evening, passed quietly away.
Music was soon called for, and Madeleine sang a beautiful song of the
sea. Then there was a merry glee, and a duet on the piano and
violoncello, and the time passed so cheerily that when the trays with
refreshments came round, betokening that the time to go was fast
approaching, everybody instinctively looked at the clock to make sure
that there was not some mistake.
One or two of the boys, as they lay awake that night, trying to recall
some of its pleasant hours, little thought that as long as life lasted
the incidents of that reception evening would be stamped indelibly upon
their memories.
"Now, aunt," said Madeleine, after all the guests had departed, "sit
down and rest, and let me collect the things together."
Everybody knows how a drawing-room looks when the company has gone.
Music here, drawings there, musical instruments somewhere else, and a
certain amount of confusion not apparent before now apparent
everywhere.
But Mrs. Brier was one of those who never could sit still while
anything had to be done, and she began to arrange the cabinet which
held her curiosities, while Madeleine collected the music. They were
thus employed when Mrs. Brier suddenly exclaimed, "Oh! Madeleine!"
"What is the matter, aunt?" asked the young girl, running to her.
"Nothing, I hope, but I cannot find the miniature portrait or the old
snuff-box which were here."
"Then they must be on one of the tables!" said Madeleine.
"I fear not; I laid everything back in the case myself--at least, I
believe I did--before putting it in the cabinet."
A careful search in every probable and improbable place in the room was
made, but the missing articles could not be found. The Doctor was
hastily called, and inquiries were made of him.
"No, my dear, I have seen nothing of them," he said. "I was busy with
the microscopes, and never even saw the things during the evening. Let
us look about--we shall soon find them."
Search after search was made, but in vain, and there was but one
conclusion at which to arrive,--the miniature and the snuff-box had
been taken away.
[Illustration: "HOWARD PRETENDED TO CLASP THE IMAGE TO HIS BREAST."]
But by whom? It could not have been by the servants, for they had only
entered the room to bring the refreshments. It could not have been by
any of the lady guests, for they had not been near the curiosities;
being old friends, these had often been shown to them before.
It was, perhaps, the most trying hour that either the Doctor or Mrs.
Brier had ever spent. They were not grieved simply because they had
lost property, valuable as it was, but their deepest sorrow arose from
the fear that honor had been lost in the school.