We had our own private opinion concerning
him, and it was unfavorable. But we did not express it. We would not
have hurt his feelings for the world. He was a visitor, our guest, so
to speak--and, as well-brought-up young men, we felt that the right
thing to do was for us to prevent his gaining any hint that we were
not glad to see him, and to make him feel as little as possible the
awkwardness of his position.
I think we succeeded. He was singularly unembarrassed, and far more
at his ease than even we were. He took but little notice of our
flattering remarks, but was much drawn toward George's legs. George
used to be, I remember, rather proud of his legs. I could never see
enough in them myself to excuse George's vanity; indeed, they always
struck me as lumpy. It is only fair to acknowledge, however, that
they quite fascinated that bull-dog. He walked over and criticized
them with the air of a long-baffled connoisseur who had at last found
his ideal. At the termination of his inspection he distinctly smiled.
George, who at that time was modest and bashful, blushed and drew them
up on to the chair. On the dog's displaying a desire to follow them,
George moved up on to the table, and squatted there in the middle,
nursing his knees.
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