If the Vanderveer boy is diagnosed as a case of "suppressed boyhood,"
then Martin Cortright's only ailment should be dubbed "suppressed youth!"
He was to have come earlier in the month, but a singular circumstance
prevented. The old-time gentlewoman, at whose house in Irving Place he
has had his apartments so long that a change seemed impossible, died, and
he was obliged not only to move, but put his precious belongings in
storage until he can place himself suitably once more. So that his plan
of coming here bridges the break, and seems quite providential.
He and father walk up and down the garden together after dinner, smoking
and chatting, and it does me good to see dear daddy with one of his
old-time friends. I think I am only now realizing what he, with his
sociable disposition, gave up in all those years before Evan came, that I
should not be alone, and that he might be all in all to me.
It was quite cool yesterday. We had hearth fires all through the house,
and Martin, rearranging some reference books for his own convenience in
the little room that is an annex to father's library, wore his skull cap
and Chinese silk dressing gown, which gave him an antique air quite at
variance with his clear skin and eyes.
Lavinia Dorman had been due all the week, but worry with the workmen who
are building in the rear of her house detained her, and she telegraphed
me that she would take the morning express, and asked me to meet her over
in town.
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