Читать книгу Cousin Mary онлайн

11 страница из 23

“He thook his head,” said John; “and so he did when I asked if he was fond of croquet. And then I thaid, was he musical?”

“I hope he is musical,” said Sophie, “a violin would be such an addition. What did he say when you asked him that?”

“He thook his head again,” answered John.

“Oh, what a horrid man!”

“No, he’s not a horrid man; he’s a good fellow; but he’th dull—he’th dull,” said John, with emphasis; it was when he wanted to be emphatic that he lisped most. And as John was very dull himself, the sisters concluded, not unreasonably, that the man in whom he discovered that quality must be dull indeed.

Mary, who was in the room, listened with some curiosity, too, though she took no part in the conversation; and she was much amused to think that in the world, and even in the parish, there could thus be a duller man than John. Not that she was contemptuous of John for his dulness. She liked him almost the best of the family. He was tiresome, to be sure; if you were thrown upon him for society, it would not be cheerful society; but then you were never thrown upon John—there was always somebody else to talk, and show a little interest. And that he was tiresome was the worst that could be said of him. He never forced his dulness upon any one, as some do. He never wanted to be talked to, or amused, or taken any notice of. His temper was as even, and the grey atmosphere about him as tranquil as heart could desire. He was not clever, but he never gave any trouble, and he could even be very kind when it came into his head.