In fact, Charley used to dread the old gentleman’s return from the springs in autumn, or the cities in winter; for he was quite sure to have invited to Elmington some of the people whom he had met there; and they often proved not very profitable acquaintances. In fine, wherever he went, he rarely failed to gather more or less gems of purest ray serene, many of which turned out, under Charley’s more scrutinizing eyes, very ordinary pebbles indeed. Unqualified, however, what I have written would give a very erroneous idea of the people our grandfather used to gather around his hospitable board; for I must say that after all deductions have been made, he managed, certainly, to get beneath his vine and fig-tree more really clever and interesting people than I have ever seen in any one house elsewhere. And then, too, as there were no ladies at Elmington, I don’t know that his mistakes mattered much. Still, they were sufficiently numerous; and he had begun to lose, not indeed his faith in men, so much as in his own ability to read them. And just in proportion as waned his confidence in his own judgment in such matters, he placed an ever-heightening estimate upon Charley’s; so that, in the end, he was always rather nervous upon the arrival of any of his new-found geniuses, till his taciturn friend had indicated, in some way, that he thought them unexceptionable. Now, Charley had seen Mr. Smith; our grandfather not. Here was a chance. He would throw the responsibility upon Charley. In this particular case he was especially glad to do so, for there was undoubtedly an air of mystery surrounding Mr. Smith, and mystery cannot but arouse suspicion. Our grandfather continued: “H’m? What do you say? For a week or so?” There was positively something timid in the way he glanced at Charley out of the corners of his eyes. And now you may dimly discern what was most probably Charley’s motive for refraining from alluding to his having himself invited the Don to Elmington. In a spirit of affectionate malice he had deliberately entrapped his old friend into making the proposition. So I must believe, at least. “By all means,” replied Charley, with a cordiality that surprised Mr. Whacker. “What! Do you say so?” cried our grandfather, rubbing his hands delightedly; and taking out his keys, he began to unlock his desk. “How should the letter be addressed?” continued he, turning and looking at Charley. His face reddened a little as he detected an imperfectly suppressed smile in Charley’s eyes. He was somewhat afraid of that smile. “What are you grinning at?” “I grinning?” “Yes, you! Didn’t you say we should invite him?” “Certainly.” “Then what’s the matter?” “It’s past eleven,” said Charley, glancing at the clock. “Is it possible!” “And then the mail doesn’t leave till day after to-morrow.” “Oh!” ejaculated our impulsive ancestor, “I had not thought of that!” CHAPTER XIX. Ten days or so have passed.