"It sounds gushing enough for a school-girl now," laughed Ruth merrily, looking up at the doctor; "but at the time I meant it."
"Have you seen him in all his impersonations?" he asked.
"In everything but 'Shylock.'"
"You will have a chance for that on Saturday night. It will be a great farewell performance."
"Undoubtedly, but I shall have to forego that last glimpse of him."
"Now, Doctor," cried Mrs. Levice, "will you please impress it on her that I am not a lunatic and can be left alone without fear? She wishes to go Saturday night, but refuses to go with her father on the ground that I shall be left alone, as Mr. Arnold is out of town. Is not that being unnecessarily solicitous?"
"Without doubt. But," he added, turning deferentially to Ruth, "in lieu of a better escort, how would I do, Miss Levice?"
"I do not understand."
"Will you come with me Saturday night to see 'Shylock'?"
To be candid, Ruth was embarrassed. The doctor had said neither "will you honor me" nor "will you please me," but he had both pleased and honored her. She turned a pair of radiant eyes to her mother. "Come now, Mrs.
Levice," laughed Kemp, noting the action, "will you allow your little girl to go with me? Do not detain me with a refusal; it will be impossible to accept one now, and I shall not be around till then, you know.
Good-morning."
Unwittingly, the doctor had caused an excitement in the hearts both of mother and daughter. The latter was naturally surprised at his unexpected invitation, but surprise was soon obliterated by another and quite different feeling, which she kept rigorously to herself. Mrs. Levice was in a dilemma about it, and consulted her husband in the evening.
"By all means, let her go," replied he; "why should you have had any misgivings about it? I am sure I am glad she is going."
"But, Jules, you forget that none of our Jewish friends allow their girls to go out with strangers."
"Is that part of our religion?"
"No; but custom is in itself a religion. People do talk so at every little innovation against convention."
"What will they say? Nothing detrimental either to Ruth or the doctor.
Pshaw, Esther! You ought to feel proud that Dr. Kemp has asked the child.
If she wishes to go, don't set an impossible bogy in the way of her enjoyment. Besides, you do not care to appear so silly as you would if you said to the doctor, 'I can't let her go on account of people's tongues,' and that is the only honest excuse you can offer." So in his manly, practical way he decided it.
On Saturday night Ruth stood in the drawing-room buttoning her pale suede glove. Kemp had not yet come in. She looked unusually well in her dull sage-green gown. A tiny toque of the same color rested on her soft dark hair. The creamy pallor of her face, the firm white throat revealed by the broad rolling collar, her grave lips and dreamy eyes, hardly told that she was feeling a little shy. Presently the bell rang, and Kemp came in, his open topcoat revealing his evening dress beneath. He came forward hastily.
"I am a little late," he said, taking her hand, "but it was unavoidable.
Ten minutes to eight," looking at his watch; "the horses must make good time."
"It is slightly chilly to-night, is it not?" asked Ruth, for want of something better to say as she turned for her wrap.
"I did not feel it," he replied, intercepting her. "But this furry thing will keep the cold off, if there is any," he continued, as he held it for her, and quite unprofessionally bent his head to hook it at her throat. A strange sensation shot through Ruth as his face approached so close her own.
"How are your mother and father?" He asked, holding the door open, while she turned for her fan, thus concealing a slight embarrassment.
"They are as usual," she answered. "Father expects to see you after the play. You will come in for a little supper, will you not?"
"That sounds alluring," he responded lightly, his quick eye remarking, as she came toward him, the dainty femininity of her loveliness, that seemed to have caught a grace beyond the reach of art.
It thus happened that they took their places just as the curtain rose.
