kind-hearted.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But I’m terribly afraid of girls who are
too kindhearted,” Julius confessed. He had wanted to drop Claude
a word of warning for some time.
Claude kept his engagement with Miss Millmore. He took her out to
the skating pond several times, indeed, though in the beginning
he told her he feared her ankles were too weak. Their last
excursion was made by moonlight, and after that evening Claude
avoided Miss Millmore when he could do so without being rude. She
was attractive to him no more. It was her way to subdue by
clinging contact. One could scarcely call it design; it was a
degree less subtle than that. She had already thus subdued a pale
cousin in Atlanta, and it was on this account that she had been
sent North. She had, Claude angrily admitted, no reserve,—though
when one first met her she seemed to have so much. Her eager
susceptibility presented not the slightest temptation to him. He
was a boy with strong impulses, and he detested the idea of
trifling with them. The talk of the disreputable men his father
kept about the place at home, instead of corrupting him, had
given him a sharp disgust for sensuality. He had an almost
Hippolytean pride in candour.
X
The Erlich family loved anniversaries, birthdays, occasions. That
spring Mrs. Erlich’s first cousin, Wilhelmina Schroeder-Schatz,
who sang with the Chicago Opera Company, came to Lincoln as
soloist for the May Festival. As the date of her engagement
approached, her relatives began planning to entertain her. The
Matinee Musical was to give a formal reception for the singer, so
the Erlichs decided upon a dinner. Each member of the family
invited one guest, and they had great difficulty in deciding
which of their friends would be most appreciative of the honour.
There were to be more men than women, because Mrs. Erlich
remembered that cousin Wilhelmina had never been partial to the
society of her own sex.
One evening when her sons were revising their list, Mrs. Erlich
reminded them that she had not as yet named her guest. “For me,”
she said with decision, “you may put down Claude Wheeler.”
This announcement was met with groans and laughter.
“You don’t mean it, Mother,” the oldest son protested. “Poor old
Claude wouldn’t know what it was all about,—and one stick can
spoil a dinner party.”
Mrs. Erlich shook her finger at him with conviction. “You will
see; your cousin Wilhelmina will be more interested in that boy
than in any of the others!”
Julius thought if she were not too strongly opposed she might
still yield her point. “For one thing, Mother, Claude hasn’t any
dinner clothes,” he murmured. She nodded to him. “That has been
attended to, Herr Julius. He is having some made. When I sounded
him, he told me he could easily afford it.”
The boys said if things had gone as far as that, they supposed
