Somehow, Molly did not like to be the first to introduce Roger's name
into the conversation, so she lost many an opportunity of hearing
intelligence about him. Osborne was often so languid or so absent
that he only followed the lead of talk; and as an awkward fellow,
who had paid her no particular attention, and as a second son, Roger
was not pre-eminent in Mrs. Gibson's thoughts; Cynthia had never
seen him, and the freak did not take her often to speak about him.
He had not come home since he had obtained his high place in the
mathematical lists: that Molly knew; and she knew, too, that he was
working hard for something--she supposed a fellowship--and that was
all. Osborne's tone in speaking of him was always the same: every
word, every inflection of the voice breathed out affection and
respect--nay, even admiration! And this from the _nil admirari_
brother, who seldom carried his exertions so far.
"Ah, Roger!" he said one day. Molly caught the name in an instant,
though she had not heard what had gone before. "He is a fellow in a
thousand--in a thousand, indeed! I don't believe there is his match
anywhere for goodness and real solid power combined."
"Molly," said Cynthia, after Mr. Osborne Hamley had gone, "what sort
of a man is this Roger Hamley? One can't tell how much to believe of
his brother's praises; for it is the one subject on which Osborne
Hamley becomes enthusiastic. I've noticed it once or twice before."
While Molly hesitated on which point of the large round to begin her
description, Mrs. Gibson struck in,--
"It just shows what a sweet disposition Osborne Hamley is of--that
he should praise his brother as he does. I daresay he is a senior
wrangler, and much good may it do him! I don't deny that; but as for
conversation, he's as heavy as heavy can be. A great awkward fellow
to boot, who looks as if he did not know two and two made four, for
all he is such a mathematical genius. You would hardly believe he
was Osborne Hamley's brother to see him! I should not think he has a
profile at all."
"What do you think of him, Molly?" said the persevering Cynthia.
"I like him," said Molly. "He has been very kind to me. I know he
isn't handsome like Osborne."
It was rather difficult to say all this quietly, but Molly managed to
do it, quite aware that Cynthia would not rest till she had extracted
some kind of an opinion out of her.
"I suppose he will come home at Easter," said Cynthia, "and then I
shall see him for myself."