"Now I feel better," he said, putting the bottle and glass on the table, and dropping into a chair.
It was strange to me that he, who was perfectly dry, should prescribe for himself exactly the same remedy that he had given to me for my wringing wetness. Yet there was no denying the beneficence of the dose, for I was most uncomfortably warm, and had he been feeling badly he was certainly now in fine spirits.
Drawing his daughter between his knees, he enfolded her in his arms protectingly. "Well, boy, I warrant you feel better," he said.
I replied that I did, and if he did not mind I should like to sit a little farther from the stove.
He consented, laughing. "And now we should introduce ourselves--formally," he went on. "You have met my daughter, Miss Blight--Miss Penelope Blight. I am Mr. Blight--Mr. Henderson Blight--in full, Andrew Henderson Blight. And you?"
"Ah!" He lifted his eyebrows. "You are one of those bumptious Malcolms."
"Yes, sir," I returned proudly, for the word "bumptious" had a ring of importance in it, and I had every reason to believe that the Malcolms were persons of quite large importance.
Why Mr. Blight laughed so loud at my reply I could not understand, but I supposed that in spite of his saturnine appearance he was a man of jovial temperament and I liked him all the more.
The wave of merriment past, he regarded me gravely. "Then you must be the son of the distinguished Judge Malcolm."
"Yes, sir," I said, pride rising triumphant over my polite humility.
"Penelope," he said, as though addressing only his daughter, "we are greatly honored. Our guest is a Malcolm--a sop of the celebrated Judge Malcolm."
By this adroit flattery my host won my heart, and in the comfort he had given me I lost all care for passing time. When I recalled James, it was with the thought that I was safe and he would find me, and I was troubled by no obligation to save him worry. This strange man interested me, he held my family in high regard, and I was well satisfied to see more of him. So I fixed my heels on the rung of my chair, folded my hands in my lap, sat up very straight, and watched him gravely. In this was the one grudge that I long bore against the Professor--that he baited me as he did, played with my child's pride, and with my innocent connivance vented his contempt on all that I held most dear. I did not understand the covert sneer against my father. Years have given me a broader view of life than was my father's, and at times I can smile with Henderson Blight at the solemnity with which he invested his judgeship, but mine is the smile of affection. With no knowledge of the law, with a power restricted to county contracts, when he sat on the bench in court week with his learned confrère, drew his chin into his pointed collar, and furrowed his brow, Blackstone beside him would have appeared a tyro in legal lore. The distinguished Judge Malcolm! So Henderson Blight spoke of him in raillery and so he was in truth, distinguished in his village and his valley, and as I have come to know men of fame in larger villages and broader valleys I can still look back to him with loving pride. Yet that day I sat complacently with my feet on the chair-rung, regarding the Professor with growing friendliness.