“Good. Your memory’s all right, too.” Helen Maynard, sitting quiet and forgotten at Mrs. Nixon’s elbow, looked at Robert with some approval for the first time. He swung around in his seat so suddenly that he accidentally[70] caught her glance. Miss Maynard had a symmetrical little nose and mouth, and he liked the way she did her hair; and wearing her present expression it occurred to him for the first time that the young woman, who was both his uncle’s stenographer and his mother’s companion, was rather fetching. [70] “Did you see the formation pretty thoroughly yesterday, Miss Maynard?” he asked briskly. Her quickly averted eyes sought the splendid sweeps of Jupiter Terrace which the stage was now passing. “Quite thoroughly,” she replied briefly. “We went the regular round,” said Mrs. Nixon. “Your uncle was really bewitched with everything.” Mr. Derwent, his hands crossed upon the head of the stick he carried, sat in the isolation of the deaf; his eyes fastened upon the delicate and wonderful coloring of the stationary cascades of deposit, over which the water was trickling; building—ever building greater beauty with its puny persistence. He caught his nephew’s eye with a good-humored twinkle. “Great example of what industry will do,” he remarked. [71] [71] “Fierce!” replied Robert, and made an energetic dive for the rubber disk, which his uncle foiled by a quick move. The youth fixed Mr. Derwent with his gaze, and moved his lips with care to be distinct. “I’ve always refused,” he declared loudly, “to have the busy bee or the coral insect thrown at me; and I now add the Yellowstone water to the black list.” “If words,” replied Mr. Derwent, “could build anything, you would rear temples of amazing height, Robert.” “And rare beauty,” added the youth. “Don’t forget that, please.” Miss Hickey changed her gum to the other side of her mouth. “Ain’t he fresh?” she murmured to her companion. “Did you see the look I gave him when he come up to the stage? I tell you I wasn’t goin’ to have him crowdin’ in here
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