Read Flowers From The Storm for Free Online

cleared table for room to stretch his legs, dangling his wineglass by negligent fingers at the rim. Maddy sat primly in her seat, taking only indirect glances round the room to see how it was fitted up.
    Papa was flushed and contented, a little abstracted, as if he still could not believe that the peak moment of the evening were true: when the Duke of Jervaulx, over an exotic and delicious creation of fish and asparagus, had casually asked if her father would consider taking the mathematical chair at the new college that he and his political associates were organizing, where there would be no religious tests for entry, but only the express purpose of educating adult students in the whole field of modern knowledge.
    It came as something of a jolt to realize that the duke might actually be a supporter of a worthy cause.
    But indeed, he was so intelligent and persuasive upon the topic, and so committed, that even Friend Milner—who was a High Church Tory if Maddy had ever seen one and who had initially been quite cross when the Timmses had addressed him as “Friend” instead of “Sir Charles,” although he had grown used to it in time—even Friend Milner had his initial doubts turned to enthusiasm and recommended Papa consider the proposition seriously.
    Papa, Maddy could see, had gone far beyond consideration and plunged ahead into cheerful daydreams. And indeed, when the duke mentioned the endowment that he had already pledged in support of the mathematical chair, Maddy herself felt a bloom of encouragement. It would be unwelcome to have a gazetted rake as a patron, but there need not be more than restricted intercourse, if any at all.
    She entertained visions of a house large enough to have a garden, and a parlor bell that was always in order.
    In the midst of these pleasant fancies, Friend Milner excused himself to smoke. He left the door ajar; within moments, the brisk clip of dog paws on a polished floor heralded the entrance of a setter, its silky white coat flung about with black spots, as if a can of dark paint had been scattered over it. With no more than a sideways glance at the duke, the animal bounded straight to Maddy and cast itself upon her lap, forelegs spread across her skirt and spotted pink nose stretched to lick her chin.
    “Devil!” The stern command caused the dog to look inquiringly round at Jervaulx, wagging its tail without removing its feathered front legs from Maddy’s lap.
    She smiled and rubbed its ears. “What a bad dog,” she murmured under her breath, as if it were a secret between them. “What a very bad dog thou art.” Devil returned adoring brown eyes to hers, grinning widely at this accusation. Another growled order from the duke made the spotted head sink. With an apologetic wrinkle of his brow, Devil subsided backward onto the floor. Jervaulx gave the animal a protracted stare. After a moment, Devil’s tail drooped, and he took himself from the room with the most dejected and dragging aspect. His master, heartless, stood up and shut him out.
    The eviction of Devil left a lull in the room. Maddy stared ahead of her at the snowy tablecloth as the duke reseated himself with a brief apology. She had a notion that Jervaulx would think the Timmses very unpolished; there were so many silences that he and Friend Milner had been obliged to fill up. Maddy was not accustomed to idle talk; as a child she had labored too hard to school herself in the biblical injunction “Let your words be few” to find it easy to chatter now. She enjoyed dogs, but had never owned one, nor known any but mongrels, so she had no discourse to offer on the topic to someone like Jervaulx, who most probably was a famous breeder or some such thing and would think her sadly uninformed.
    She would have liked very much to inquire into the expense of the pretty fabric that covered the chairs, but held her tongue on that. Plain Quaker homes had no such creaturely baubles as printed chintz upholstery or paintings on