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Like one watching a new picture, Mr. Bopp inspected every feature of the countenance so near his own; and, as his admiration “grew by what it fed on,” he fell into a chronic state of stammer and blush; for the frank eyes were very kind, the smooth cheeks reflected a pretty shade of his own crimson, and the smiling lips seemed constantly suggesting, with mute eloquence, that they were made for kissing, while the expressive hands picked at the knots till the Professor felt like a very resigned fly in the web of a most enticing young spider.

If the King of Clubs saw a comely face, the Queen of Hearts saw what observing girls call a “good face;” and with a womanly respect for strength, the manliest attribute of man, she admired the broad shoulders and six feet one of her new master. This face was not handsome, for, true to his fatherland, the Professor had an eminent nose, a blonde beard, and a crop of “bonny brown hair” long enough to have been gathered into a ribbon, as in the days of Schiller and Jean Paul; but Dolly liked it, for its strength was tempered with gentleness; patience and courage gave it dignity, and the glance that met her own was both keen and kind.

The silk was wound at last, the coat repaired. Dick with difficulty concealed the growing stiffness of his shoulders, while Dolly turned up the lamp, which bluntly hinted bedtime, and Mrs. Ward successfully devoured six gapes behind her hand, but was detected in the seventh by Mr. Bopp, who glanced at the clock, stopped in the middle of a sentence, and, with a hurried “goot-night,” made for the door without the least idea whither he was going. Piloted by Dick, he was installed in the “best chamber,” where his waking dreams were enlivened by a great fire, and his sleeping ones by an endless succession of skeins, each rapturously concluded in the style of Sam Weller when folding carpets with the pretty maid.

“I tell you, Dolly, it won’t do, and I’m not going to have it.”

“Oh, indeed; and how will you help it, you absurd boy?”

“Why, if you don’t stop it, I’ll just say to Bopp,–‘Look here, my dear fellow; this sister of mine is a capital girl, but she will flirt and'”–

“And it’s a family failing, Dick,” cut in Dolly.

“Not a bit of it. I shall say, ‘Take care of your heart, Bopp, for she has a bad habit of playing battle-door and shuttle-cock with these articles; and, though it may be very good fun for a time, it makes them ache when they get a last knock and are left to lie in a corner.'”

“What eloquence! But you’d never dare to try it on Mr. Bopp; and I shouldn’t like to predict what would happen to you if you did.”

“If you say ‘dare,’ I’ll do it the first minute I see him. As for consequences, I don’t care that for ’em;” and Dick snapped his fingers with an aspect of much disdain. But something in his sister’s face suggested the wisdom of moderation, and moved him to say, less like a lord of creation, and more like a brother who privately adored his sister, but of course was not going to acknowledge such a weakness,–

“Well, but soberly, now, I wish you wouldn’t plague Bopp; for it’s evident to me that he is hit; and from the way you’ve gone on these two months, what else was to be expected? Now, as the head of the family,–you needn’t laugh, for I am,–I think I ought to interfere; and so I put it to you,–do you like him, and will you have him? or are you merely amusing yourself, as you have done ever since you were out of pinafores? If you like him, all serene. I’d rather have him for a brother than any one I know, for he’s a regular trump though he is poor; but if you don’t, I won’t have the dear old fellow floored just because you like to see it done.”