Mrs. McGrier was voluble. And
that, solely, because "Pathrick" said nothing. Even as I remembered him
in the days of his pride at the door of the Greek classroom, Pathrick
had always possessed the shut mouth, the watery, appealing eye, and the
indicative thumb which answered the question of a novice only with a
quick jerk in the requisite direction.

I think Pathrick sometimes conceived dark suspicions that I had changed
Irma in the intervals of his visits. You see, this small witch had but
two dresses that were any way respectable--that is to say, street-going
or Sabbath-keeping. But then she had naturally such an instinct of
arrangement that a scrap of ribbon, or the lace scarf my grandmother had
given her, made so great a difference that she seemed to have an entire
wardrobe at her command. No doubt a woman would have picked out the
fundamental sameness at a glance. But it did very well for men, who
only care for the effect.

Even the Advocate would look in on his way to or from the Sciennes for a
cup of tea from Irma. And in our little parlour he would sit and rap on
his snuffbox, talking all the while, and forgetting to go till it was
dark--as gentle and human as any common man.

When Freddy and Amelia Craven came in he would give the student advice
about his work, or ask Amelia when she was going to call in his
assistance to get married--which was his idea of jocularity, and, I must
admit, also, that of Amelia. Indeed, we were wonderfully glad to see
him, and he brightened many a dull afternoon for Irma.

Sometimes, if I got away early, I would find him already installed, his
hat stuck on his gold-headed cane in the corner--as it were, all his
high authority laid aside, while he regarded with moist eyes the
work-basket in which Irma kept her interminable scraplets of white
things which I would not have meddled with the tip of one of my fingers,
but which the Advocate turned over with an ancient familiarity, humming
a tune all the while--a tune, however, apt to break off suddenly with a
"_Humph_," and an appeal to the much-enduring lid of the tortoise-shell
snuffbox.

But I think the dearest and best remembered of all these early
experiences happened one winter's evening in the midst of the press and
bustle which always attended the opening of the autumn session. The
winter number of the _Universal_ was almost due, and we were backward,
having had to wait for the copy of an important contributor, whose
commun