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An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-1
Chapter 6
Using Methods
At a Glance
• Objectives
• Teaching Tips
• Quick Quizzes
• Additional Projects
• Additional Resources
• Key Terms
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-2
Lecture Notes
Overview
Chapter 6 presents another universal topic in object-oriented programming. Methods are a
fundamental concept and provide the foundation for a program. The chapter begins by
presenting the advantages of modularization and what is involved in modularizing a
program. Next, local and global variables and constants are described. This is followed by a
discussion regarding the creation of various methods using single variable arguments,
multiple variable arguments, array elements as arguments, and arrays themselves as
arguments. The topic of returning a variable to the calling method is also covered. The end
of the chapter discusses various important topics, including overloading methods, avoiding
ambiguous code, and the convenience of predefined methods.
Chapter Objectives
In this chapter, your students will learn about:
• The advantages of modularization
• Modularizing a program
• Declaring local and global variables and constants
• Methods that require parameters
• Methods that return a value
• Passing an array to a method
• Overloading methods
• Using predefined methods
Teaching Tips
Understanding the Advantages of Modularization
1. Introduce the concept of modularization, which is the process of breaking down the
programming process into smaller, more manageable units. Mention that modules are
also called subroutines, procedures, functions, or methods, depending on the
programming language you are working with. This book will use the term method.
2. Discuss the advantages of modularization using the bulleted list on Page 205.
3. Explain that methods provide a way to achieve abstraction, making complex tasks look
simple.
1. Explain that most well-written methods execute a single, finite task, making them easier
to understand than a large program.
1. Discuss another advantage of breaking down a task into methods; it can be more easily
divided among various people. Commercial software applications are developed this
way.
2. Give some real-world examples of reusability, such as reusing plumbing and heating
systems in the construction of a new home.
3. Introduce reliability, which is the feature of programs and methods that assures you
each has been tested and proved to function correctly.
Modularizing a Program
1. Explain that application classes have the option of containing additional methods that
the main() method can use.
3. Explain that when a main() method needs to use another method, it calls the method,
or invokes it, using the method’s name.
4. Describe the flowchart symbol used to represent a method— a rectangle with a bar
across the top. Note that the method name goes inside the rectangle.
5. Introduce the example in Figure 6-1 on Page 209, which produces a customer’s bill
using only a main() method.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-4
6. Review Figure 6-2 on Page 210 and discuss the modularization that is accomplished by
the addition of the displayAddressInfo() method.
7. Explain some of the advantages of the modularized program shown in Figure 6-2. That
is, the main() method remains short and easy to follow, and the method in the
modularized version is easily reusable.
9. Note that when using the displayAddressInfo() method within its own class, it
is not necessary to use the full name. Using it within another class requires identifying it
by its full name.
10. Explain that there are no fixed rules for how to break down programs into methods; it
requires experience.
11. Define functional cohesion, which describes the extent to which a method’s statements
contribute to the specific task.
Remind students that when you call a method, the action is similar to putting a
Teaching DVD player on pause. You abandon your first action (watching a video), take
Tip care of some other task (for example, making a sandwich), and when the
secondary task is complete, you return to the main task exactly where you left
off.
2. Using Figure 6-3 on Page 213, show an example of a method that contains three named
constant declarations.
3. Explain that variables and constants declared in a method are usable only within that
method. Note that the terms local, in scope, and visible are other ways of referring to
variables that are known only within a method. When the method ends, its variables are
said to go out of scope.
4. Make sure students understand that local variables and constants cannot be used by the
main() method.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-5
5. Mention that in the last example, the variables in the main() method are local to main
and not visible within the displayAddressInfo() method.
6. Define portable methods, which are self-contained units that are easily transportable to
other applications. Note that the definitions for variables and constants should come
with the method.
7. Explain global variables and constants, which are known to the entire class. They are
declared inside a class but outside any methods.
8. Describe how methods share data, noting that data can be passed into and returned out
of methods. Using the bulleted list on page 214, explain three requirements of calling a
method.
2. Give the example of a square() method that you can supply with a parameter that
represents the value to be squared.
5. Show Figure 6-5 on page 217, which illustrates how the billing program might look
when executed in a command-line environment.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-6
6. Discuss the items that must be included within the method header’s parentheses: the
type of parameter and local name for the parameter.
7. Review that in the program in Figure 6-4, the value of the balance is stored in two
places in memory; main() stores it in the variable balance and passes it to
displayAddressInfo()as an argument. Note that the
displayAddressInfo() method accepts the parameter as amountDue.
2. Mention that most of the time, an argument is passed by value, forcing the method to
contain its own copy of the value.
4. Explain that the name of the variable passed in can be either the same or different as the
parameter in the method header.
5. Go through the logic in the program shown in Figure 6-6 on page 219, as an example of
passing an argument by value. Figure 6-7 shows the execution of the program in Figure
6-6.
8. Explain that some programming languages allow you to pass arguments by reference,
which gives the receiving method the address of the original variable rather than a copy
of its value. The way this is accomplished differs among programming languages but
typically involves placing a special symbol or specified keyword within the parentheses
in the method header.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-7
Explain that the declaration of the argument in the method header is similar to
Teaching the declaration of a data item variable in the class. It is different, however, in that
Tip the argument can only be used within the body of the method, and its value must
be supplied when the method is called. That is, a value is assigned to an
argument when the method is invoked, and the argument does not retain its value
once the method is finished executing.
1. Explain that a method can require more than one parameter. Describe how to create and
use a method with multiple parameters using the bulleted list on page 220.
2. Use Figure 6-8 on page 221 to illustrate a call to a computeTax() method using two
values: the amount to be taxed and a percentage by which to tax it. Step through the
program logic, emphasizing variable declarations and use. Use the discussion on pages
221–222 as a guide.
3. Stress that a method invocation with multiple arguments requires that the arguments
passed in match the method’s argument declaration in number, type, and order.
Teaching The arguments sent to a method in a method call are often referred to as actual
Tip parameters. The variables in a method declaration that accept values from the
actual parameters are called the formal parameters.
2. Explain that if a programmer wants to retain a value that exists in a method, the
programmer can send the value back to the calling method. To do this, the method must
have a return type. Explain that a return type could be numeric, character, or string, as
well as other types that exist in the programming language you are using.
3. Define a void method, and explain that a method type is indicated in front of the method
name when the method is defined.
A method with arguments and a non-void return type can be compared to a food
Teaching processor. You provide input (food) to the food processor, press a button to
Tip “execute” it, and the food processor returns something that is probably in a
different form than it was when you put it in! The food processor manipulated
the input and provided something in return.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-8
4. Use Figure 6-9 on pages 224–225 to illustrate a method returning a value. Step through
the program logic, emphasizing the returning variables’ declarations and use. Use the
discussion on page 225 as a guide.
5. Mention that a method’s declared return type must match the type of the value used in
the return statement; if it does not, the program will not compile.
6. Note that a called method may return a value directly to the calling method without
storing it. Use Figure 6-10 on page 226 to illustrate an example of a main() method
that uses a method’s returned value in an arithmetic statement directly without storing
it.
8. Note the problem that exists in Figure 6-11. The problem involves a violation of
structured logic, requiring each structure to contain one entry point and one exit point
by leaving the decision structure before it is complete.
9. Use Figure 6-12 on page 228 to illustrate a solution to the problem in Figure 6-11. Step
through the program logic, noting that the largest value is stored in a variable. Then,
when the decision structure is complete, the stored value is returned.
2. Describe that instead of passing an array element, you can pass an entire array as an
argument. Explain that arrays are passed by reference and that changes made to the
array in the called method are permanently reflected in the array.
3. Review the program in Figure 6-13 on pages 230–231, which creates an array of four
numeric values and passes the array to methods three times. Use the bulleted list on
page 229 to talk through these three calls.
Quick Quiz 1
1. ____ are the data items sent to methods.
Answer: Arguments
3. True or False: A method’s arguments must be declared with the argument type before
the argument name.
Answer: True
5. When passing values to arguments in a method, the values must match the argument
declarations in which three ways?
Answer: number, type, and order
Overloading Methods
1. Describe what is meant by overloading.
3. Use Figure 6-15 on page 233 to show a method that prints a message and the amount
due on a customer bill. The method receives a numeric parameter that represents the
customer’s balance and prints two lines of output. A second version that receives two
parameters is also shown in the figure. Step through the two programs to illustrate
overloading.
4. Use Figure 6-16 on page 234 to show two more versions of the printBill method:
one that uses two arguments and one that uses three. Step through the logic in each.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-10
5. Note that overloading a method is never required, but the advantage to the method’s
clients is that they need only keep track of a single method name rather than multiple
names.
1. Explain an ambiguous method and how overloading a method creates a risk of creating
ambiguous methods.
2. Use Figure 6-17 on pages 236–237 to illustrate a program that contains an ambiguous
method call. Step through the program, explaining that each of the two versions of
printBill() in Figure 6-17 is a valid method on its own. However, when the two
versions exist in the same class, the compiler cannot determine which version to
execute.
3. Stress that the compiler determines which version of a method to call based on
argument data types only, not their identifiers.
2. Explain that using predefined methods saves time and effort. Give the example of
methods that print “Hello” on the screen, using the statements on page 238.
4. Describe the three things a programmer needs to know when using predefined methods,
using the bulleted list on page 239.
Teaching Note that a programmer does not need to know how a built-in method is
Tip implemented—that is, how the instruction statements are written within it. Built-
in methods are usually black boxes. You can use built-in methods without
worrying about their low-level implementation details.
Quick Quiz 2
1. True or False: A programmer can pass a single array element to a method in exactly the
same manner as passing a variable or constant.
Answer: True
2. True or False: An entire array is too big and impossible to pass as a variable to a called
method.
Answer: False
3. When an item is ____ to a method, the method receives the actual memory address
item.
Answer: passed by reference
2. Discuss the concept of reusability and how to design for reusability. Have the students
consider the actions they take to complete a homework assignment in a specific course
and determine if any similar actions are taken to complete homework in another course.
For example, “open book” and “read book” are two activities that are probably common
to many homework assignments. Discuss how these activities could be represented as
generic, reusable methods with arguments.
Additional Projects
1. Have the student select an object-oriented language of his or her choice and research the
various specifics of variable definition and use within that language. Have the student
write a short report and present it to the class.
2. Have the student write the pseudocode and a flowchart diagramming the process of
calculating student grades at the end of the semester. Ask the student to focus on
incorporating a called method (or two) and consider the variable declarations for doing
this.
Additional Resources
1. Methods (C# Programming Guide):
http://msdn.microsoft.com/en-us/library/ms173114.aspx
Key Terms
Abstraction is the process of paying attention to important properties while ignoring
nonessential details.
Actual parameters are the arguments in a method call.
Ambiguous methods are overloaded methods for which the compiler cannot determine
which version to use.
Arguments are the data items sent to methods.
Calling or invoking a method causes it to execute.
Encapsulation is the feature of methods that provides for their instructions and data to
be contained in the method.
Formal parameters are the variables in the method declaration that accept the values
from the actual parameters.
Functional cohesion describes the extent to which a method’s statements contribute to
the same task.
Functional decomposition is the act of reducing a large program into more manageable
methods.
Global variables and constants are known to an entire class.
Implementation hiding is a principle of object-oriented programming that describes
the encapsulation of method details within a class.
In scope describes items that are visible in a method.
The interface to a method includes the method’s return type, name, and arguments.
The interface is the part that a client sees and uses.
Local describes data items that are usable only within the method in which they are
declared.
A method body contains all of the statements in a method.
The method declaration consists of the return type and signature of the method.
A method header is the first line of a method. It is the entry point to a method, and it
provides an identifier, parameter list, and frequently, other information.
A method’s client is a program or other method that uses the method.
A method’s return statement marks the end of the method and identifies the point at
which control returns to the calling method.
A method’s type is its return type.
Modularization is the process of converting a large program into a set of shorter
methods.
Modules are small program units that are combined to make programs. Programmers
also refer to modules as subroutines, procedures, functions, or methods.
Out of scope describes data items that are no longer visible to a method.
When you overload a method, you write multiple methods with a shared name but
different parameter lists.
Overloading involves supplying diverse meanings for a single identifier.
A parameter list is the list of parameters in a method header.
Parameters are the data items received by methods.
Passed by reference describes parameters received by a method as memory addresses.
Passed by value describes parameters received by a method as a copy.
An Object-Oriented Approach to Programming Logic and Design, Fourth Edition 6-14
Mrs. Meredith’s drawing-room was not like the twin room next door. It
was more ornate, though not nearly so beautiful. The three windows were
draped in long misty white curtains, which veiled the light even at its
brightest and made a curious artificial semblance of mystery and retirement
on this autumn afternoon, when the red sunshine glowed outside. Long
looking-glasses here and there reflected these veiled lights. There was a
good deal of gilding, and florid furniture, which insisted on being looked at.
Cara sat down on an ottoman close to the further window after their walk,
while Mrs. Meredith went to take off her bonnet. She wanted to see the
people arrive, and was a little curious about them. There were, for a country
house, a good many visitors at the Hill; but they came irregularly, and
sometimes it would happen that for days together not a soul would appear.
But Mrs. Meredith had no more doubt of the arrival of her friends than if
they had all been invited guests. Cara was still seated alone, looking out,
her pretty profile relieved against the white curtain like a delicate little
cameo, when the first visitor arrived, who was a lady, and showed some
annoyance to find the room already occupied. ‘I thought I must be the first,’
she said, giving the familiar salutation of a kiss to Mrs. Meredith as she
entered. ‘Never mind, it is only Cara Beresford,’ said that lady, and led her
friend by the hand to where two chairs were placed at the corner of the fire.
Here they sat and talked in low tones with great animation, the ‘he saids’
and ‘she saids’ being almost all that reached Cara’s ear, who, though a little
excited by the expectation of ‘company,’ did not understand this odd
version of it. By-and-by, however, the lady came across to her and began to
talk, and Cara saw that some one else had arrived. The room filled
gradually after this, two or three people coming and going, each of them in
their turn receiving a few minutes particular audience. Nothing could be
more evident than that it was to see the lady of the house that these people
came; for, though the visitors generally knew each other, there was not
much general conversation. Every new-comer directed his or her glance to
Mrs. Meredith’s corner, and, if the previous audience was not concluded,
relapsed into a corner, and talked a little to the next person, whoever that
might be. In this way Cara received various points of enlightenment as to
this new society. Most of them had just returned to town. They talked of
Switzerland, they talked of Scotland; of meeting So-and-so here and there;
of this one who was going to be married, and that one who was supposed to
be dying; but all this talk was subsidiary to the grand object of the visit,
which was the personal interview. Cara, though she was too young to relish
her own spectator position, could not help being interested by the way in
which her friend received her guests. She had a different aspect for each.
The present one, as Cara saw looking up, after an interval, was a man, with
whom Mrs. Meredith was standing in front of the furthest window. She was
looking up in his face, with her eyes full of interest, not saying much;
listening with her whole mind and power, every fold in her dress, every line
of her hair and features, falling in with the sentiment of attention. Instead of
talking, she assented with little nods of her head and soft acquiescent or
remonstrative movements of her delicate hands, which were lightly clasped
together. This was not at all her attitude with the ladies, whom she placed
beside her, in one of the low chairs, with little caressing touches and smiles
and low-voiced talk. How curious it was to watch them one by one! Cara
felt a strong desire, too, to have something to tell; to go and make her
confession or say her say upon some matter interesting enough to call forth
that sympathetic, absorbed look—the soft touch upon her shoulder, or half
embrace.
It was tolerably late when the visitors went away—half-past six, within
an hour of dinner. The ladies were the last to go, as they had been the first
to come; and Cara, relieved by the departure of the almost last stranger,
drew timidly near the fire, when Mrs. Meredith called her. It was only as
she approached—and the girl felt cold, sitting so far off and being so
secondary, which is a thing that makes everybody chilly—that she
perceived somebody remaining, a gentleman seated in an easy-chair—an
old gentleman (according to Cara; he was not of that opinion himself), who
had kept his place calmly for a long time without budging, whosoever went
or came.
‘Well, you have got through the heavy work,’ said this patient visitor,
‘and I hope you have sent them off happier. It has not been your fault, I am
sure, if they are not happier; they have each had their audience and their
appropriate word.’
‘You always laugh at me, Mr. Somerville: why should I not say what I
think they will like best to the people who come to see me?’
‘Ah, when you put it like that!’ he said; ‘certainly, why shouldn’t you?
But I think some of those good people thought that you gave them beautiful
advice and consolation, didn’t you? I thought it seemed like that as I looked
on.’
‘You are always so severe. Come, my darling, you are out of sight there;
come and smooth down this mentor of mine by the sight of your young
face. This is my neighbour’s child, Miss Beresford, from next door.’
‘Ah, the neighbour!’ said Mr. Somerville, with a slight emphasis, and
then he got up somewhat stiffly and made Cara his bow. ‘Does not he come
for his daily bread like the rest?’ he said, in an undertone.
‘Mr. Beresford is going to dine with me to-night, with Cara, who has just
come home,’ said Mrs. Meredith, with a slight shade of embarrassment on
her face.
‘Ah! from school?’ said this disagreeable old man.
It had grown dark, and the lady herself had lighted the candles on the
mantelpiece. He was sitting immediately under a little group of lights in a
florid branched candlestick, which threw a glow upon his baldness. Cara,
unfavourably disposed, thought there was a sneer instead of a smile upon
his face, which was partially in shade.
‘I have never been to school,’ said the girl, unreasonably angry at the
imputation; and just then someone else came in—another gentleman, with
whom Mrs. Meredith, who had advanced to meet him, lingered near the
door. Mr. Somerville watched over Cara’s head, and certainly his smile had
more amusement than benevolence in it.
‘Ah!’ he said again, ‘then you miss the delight of feeling free: no girl
who has not been at school can understand the pleasure of not being at
school any longer. Where have you been, then, while your father has been
away?’
‘With my aunts, at Sunninghill,’ said Cara, unnecessarily
communicative, as is the habit of youth.
‘Ah, yes, with your aunts! I used to know some of your family. Look at
her now,’ said the critic, more to himself than to Cara—‘this is a new phase.
This one she is smoothing down.’
Cara could not help a furtive glance. The new comer had said something,
she could not hear what, and stood half-defiant at the door. Mrs. Meredith’s
smile spoke volumes. She held out her hand with a deprecating, conciliatory
look. They could not hear what she said; but the low tone, the soft aspect,
the extended hand, were full of meaning. The old gentleman burst into a
broken, hoarse laugh. It was because the new-comer, melting all at once,
took the lady’s hand and bowed low over it, as if performing an act of
homage. Mr. Somerville laughed, but the stranger did not hear.
‘This is a great deal too instructive for you,’ he said. ‘Come and tell me
about your aunts. You think me quite an old man, eh? and I think you quite
a little girl.’
‘I am not so young! I am seventeen.’
‘Well! And I am seven-and-fifty—not old at all—a spruce and spry
bachelor, quite ready to make love to any one; but such are the erroneous
ideas we entertain of each other. Have you known Mrs. Meredith a long
time? or is this your first acquaintance?’
‘Oh, a very long time—almost since ever I was born!’
‘And I have known her nearly twenty years longer than that. Are you
very fond of her? Yes, most people are. So is your father, I suppose, like the
rest. But now you are the mistress of the house, eh? you should not let your
natural-born subjects stray out of your kingdom o’ nights.’
‘I have not any kingdom,’ said Cara, mournfully. ‘The house is so sad. I
should like to change it if papa would consent.’
‘That would be very good,’ said the volunteer counsellor, with alacrity.
‘You could not do anything better, and I dare say he will do it if you say so.
A man has a great deal of tenderness for his wife’s only child when he has
lost her. You have your own love and the other too.’
‘Have I?’ said the girl wistfully. Then she remembered that to talk of her
private affairs and household circumstances with a stranger was a
wonderful dereliction of duty. She made herself quite stiff accordingly in
obedience to propriety, and changed her tone.
‘Is not Oswald at home?’ she said. ‘I thought I should be sure to see
him.’
‘Oswald is at home, but he keeps away at this hour. He overdoes it, I
think; but sons like to have their mothers to themselves: I don’t think they
like her to have such troops of friends. And Oswald, you know, is a man,
and would like to be master.’
‘He has no right to be master!’ said Cara, the colour rising on her
cheeks. ‘Why should not she have her friends?’
‘That is exactly what I tell him; but most likely he will understand you
better. He is not my ideal of a young man; so you have no call to be angry
with me on account of Oswald.’
‘I—angry with—you; when I don’t know you—when I never saw you
before! I beg your pardon,’ cried Cara, fearing that perhaps this might
sound rude; but if it was rude it was true.
‘Must you go?’ said Mrs. Meredith to her visitor. ‘Well, I will not delay
you, for it is late; but that is all over, is it not? I cannot afford to be
misunderstood by anyone I care for. Won’t you say “How d’ye do?” to Mr.
Somerville, my old friend, whom you see always, and Miss Beresford, my
young friend, whom you have never seen before?’
‘I have not time, indeed,’ said the stranger, with a vague bow towards
the fireplace; ‘but I go away happy—it is all over, indeed. I shall know
better than ever to listen to detractors and mischief-makers again.’
‘That is right,’ she said, giving him her hand once more. When he was
gone she turned back with a little air of fatigue. ‘Somebody had persuaded
that foolish boy that I thought him a bore. He is not a bore—except now
and then; but he is too young,’ said Mrs. Meredith, shaking her head. ‘You
young people are so exigent, Cara. You want always to be first; and in
friendship that, you know, is impossible. All are equal on that ground.’
‘I am glad you have a lesson now and then,’ said Mr. Somerville. ‘You
know my opinion on that subject.’
‘Are you going to dine with us, dear Mr. Somerville?’ said Mrs.
Meredith, sweetly, looking at her watch. ‘Do. You know Mr. Beresford is
coming, who is very fine company indeed. No? I am so sorry. It would be
so much more amusing for him, not to speak of Cara and me.’
‘I am very sorry I can’t amuse you to-night,’ he said, getting to his feet
more briskly than Cara expected. Mrs. Meredith laughed; and there was a
certain sound of hostility in the laugh, as though she was glad of the little
prick she had bestowed.
‘Cara, you must run and dress,’ she said; ‘not any toilette to speak of,
dear. There will only be your father and Oswald; but you must be quick, for
we have been kept very late this evening. I wonder you can resist that
young face,’ she said, as Cara went away. ‘You are fond of youth, I know.’
‘I am not fond of affording amusement,’ he said. He limped slightly as
he walked, which was the reason he had allowed Cara to go before him.
‘Yes; I like youth. Generally it makes few phrases, and it knows what it
means.’
‘Which is just what I dislike.’
‘Yes; elderly sirens naturally do. But next time Beresford comes to dine,
and you ask me, if you will give me a little longer notice I will come, for I
want to meet him.’
‘Let it be on Saturday, then,’ she said; ‘that is, if he has no engagement. I
will let you know.’
‘As if she did not know what engagements he had!’ Mr. Somerville said
to himself: ‘as if he ever dreamt of going anywhere that would interfere
with his visits here!’ He struck his stick sharply against the stairs as he went
down. He had no sense of hostility to Mrs. Meredith, but rather that kind of
uneasy liking akin to repugnance, which made him wish to annoy her. He
felt sure she was made angry by the sound of his stick on the stairs. Her
household went upon velvet, and made no noise; for though she was not
fanciful she had nerves, and was made to start and jump by any sudden
noise.
Cara heard him go with his stick along the Square, as nurse, who was her
maid, closed the windows of her room. The sound got less distinct after
this, but still she could hear it gradually disappearing. What a disagreeable
old man he was, though he said he did not think himself old; at seven-and-
fifty! Cara thought seven-and-twenty oldish, and seven-and-thirty the age of
a grandfather; and yet he did not think himself old! So strange are the
delusions which impartial people have to encounter in this world. Nurse
interrupted her thoughts by a question about her dress. One of her very
prettiest evening dresses lay opened out upon her bed.
‘That is too fine,’ said Cara; ‘we are to be quite alone.’
‘You haven’t seen Mr. Oswald, have you, Miss Cara, dear? He has
grown up that handsome you would not know him. He was always a fine
boy; but now—I don’t know as I’ve ever seen a nicer-looking young man.’
‘I will have my plain white frock, please, nurse—the one I wore last
night,’ said Cara, absolutely unaware of any connection that could exist
between Oswald Meredith’s good looks and her second-best evening dress
—a dress that might do for a small dance, as Aunt Cherry had impressed
upon her. It never occurred to the girl that her own simple beauty could be
heightened by this frock or that. Vanity comes on early or late, according to
the character; but, except under very favourable (or unfavourable)
circumstances, seldom develops in early youth. Cara had not even begun to
think whether she herself was pretty or not, and she would have scorned
with hot shame and contempt the idea of dressing for effect. People only
think of dress when they have self-consciousness. She did not understand
enough of the a, b, c of that sentiment to put any meaning to what nurse
said, and insisted upon her plain muslin gown, laughing at the earnestness
of the attendant. ‘It is too fine,’ she said. ‘Indeed I am not obstinate: it
would be a great deal too fine.’ Her father was waiting for her in the hall
when the simple toilette was completed, and Mrs. Meredith had not yet
made her appearance when the two went into the drawing-room next door.
Mr. Beresford sat down with his eyes turned towards the door. ‘She is
almost always late,’ he said, with a smile. He was a different man here—
indulgent, gentle, fatherly. Mrs. Meredith came in immediately after, with
pretty lace about her shoulders and on her head. ‘Oswald is late, as usual,’
she said, putting her hand into Mr. Beresford’s. He looked at her, smiling,
with a satisfied friendly look, as if his eyes loved to dwell upon her. He
smiled at Oswald’s lateness; did not look cross, as men do when they are
waiting for their dinner. ‘Cara is punctual, you see,’ he said, with a smile.
‘Cara is a dear child,’ said Mrs. Meredith. ‘She has been with me all day.
How odd that you should be made complete by a daughter and I by a son,
such old friends as we are! Ah! here is Oswald. Would you have known
him, Cara? Oswald, this is——’
‘There is no need to tell me who it is,’ said Oswald. Cara saw, when she
looked at him, that what the others had said was true. It did not move her
particularly, but still she could see that he was very handsome, as
everybody had told her. He took her hand, which she held out timidly, and,
without any ceremony, drew it within his arm. ‘We must go to dinner at
once,’ he said, ‘or Sims will put poison in the soup. She longs to poison me,
I know, in my soup, because I am always late; but I hope she will let me off
for your sake, Cara. And so really you are little Cara? I did not believe it,
but I see it is true now.’
‘Why did you not believe it? I think I should have known you,’ said
Cara, ‘if I had met you anywhere. It is quite true; but you are just like
Oswald all the same.’
‘What is quite true?’ Oswald was a great deal more vain than Cara was,
being older and having had more time to see the effect of his good looks.
He laughed, and did not push his question any further. It was a pleasant
beginning. He had his mother’s sympathetic grace of manner, and, Cara felt
at once, understood her and all her difficulties at a glance, as Mrs. Meredith
had done. How far this was true may be an open question; but she was
convinced of it, which for the moment was enough.
‘We did not come downstairs so ceremoniously last time we met,’ he
said. ‘When you came for the nursery tea, with nurse behind you. I think
Edward held the chief place in your affections then. He was nearer your
age; but thank Heaven that fellow is out of the way, and I have a little time
to make the running before he comes back!’
Cara did not know what it meant to ‘make the running,’ and was
puzzled. She was not acquainted with any slang except that which has crept
into books, but an expression of pleasure in Edward’s absence appalled her.
‘I remember him best,’ she said, ‘because he was more near my age; but
you were both big boys—too big to care for a little thing like me. I
remember seeing you come in with a latch-key one afternoon and open the
door—ah!’ said Cara, with a little cry. It had been on the afternoon of her
mother’s death when she had been placed at the window to look for her
father’s coming, and had seen the two big boys in the afternoon light, and
watched them, with an interest which quite distracted her attention for the
moment, fitting the key into the door.
‘What is it?’ he said, looking at her very kindly. ‘You have not been here
for a long time—yes, it must bring back so many things. Look, Cara! Sims
is gracious; she will not poison me this time. She has not even frowned at
me, and it is all because of you.’
‘I like Sims,’ said Cara, her heart rising, she could not tell why. ‘I like
everybody I used to know.’
‘So do I—because you do; otherwise I am not so fond of my fellow-
creatures; some of them plague one’s life out. What are you going to do
when you get used to the excitement of seeing us all again? You will find
yourself very badly off for something to do.’
‘Do you?’ said Cara, innocently.
‘My mother does for me. She thinks me very idle. So I am, I suppose.
What is the good of muddling what little brains one has in work? One in a
family who does that is enough. Edward is that excellent person. He goes in
for Greek so that my head aches; though why he should, being intended for
the Civil Service, I don’t know.’
‘Won’t it do him any good?’ said Cara, with regret. She was practical,
and did not like to hear of this waste of labour. ‘Is Edward—changed—like
you?’ she added softly, after a pause. He looked at her with laughing bright
eyes, all softened and liquid with pleasure. He knew what she meant, and
that his handsome face was having its natural effect upon Cara; though,
being much older than Cara, he could not have believed how little effect his
good looks really had.
‘I think he is very like what he always was,’ he said; ‘he is such a good
fellow, Cara. If anyone asks you which is the best of the Merediths, say
Edward. You may be sure you will be right. Listen what the elders are
saying; they are talking about you and me.’
‘Why about you and me?’ Cara was always slightly alarmed to hear that
she was being talked of. It roused the latent suspicion in her which had been
startled into being at her mother’s death. She stopped talking, and looked at
the other two. His mother was opposite to Oswald, and her father was
opposite to her. What an odd arrangement it seemed when you came to
think of it! If papa had got one of the boys, and she, Cara, had fallen to the
lot of Mrs. Meredith—would that have been better? She looked at Oswald’s
mother and wondered; then bethought herself of the Hill and blushed. No,
such an idea was nothing but treachery to the Hill, where it was Cara, and
no other, who was the chosen child.
‘She has grown into a little lily,’ said Mrs. Meredith. ‘She is shy, but
open and winning, and I like girls to be shy like that. I do not wonder that
you are proud of her.’
‘Am I proud of her? I am not sure. She is nice-looking, I think.’
‘Nice-looking? She has grown into a little lily. It is wonderful how she
blends two likenesses; I see you both. Ah! have I said too much? A happy
child so often does that; you will forgive me if I say anything that hurts
——’
‘You could not say anything that hurts,’ he said in a low voice, ‘it would
not hurt coming from you.’
‘Well, perhaps it ought not,’ she said, with a smile, ‘because it is said in
true friendship. I noticed that at once in Cara—sometimes one and
sometimes the other—like both. That is not the case with my boys. I shall
not have Edward till Christmas. You know it has always been my happy
time when the boys were here.’
‘Is Oswald doing anything—?’ A close observer would have seen that
Mr. Beresford was not fond of Oswald. He was not nearly so well-disposed
to him as Mrs. Meredith was to Cara. Perhaps it was purely on moral
grounds and justifiable; perhaps the young man and his senior came in each
other’s way more than the girl and the matron did. This abrupt question
rather put a stop to poor Mrs. Meredith. She blushed a little and faltered as
she replied.
CHAPTER XIII.
Cara’s second evening at home was passed much more happily than the
first, thanks to Mrs. Meredith, and her spirits rose in consequence; but next
morning there ensued a fall, as was natural, in her spiritual barometer. She
went to the window in the drawing-room when she was all alone, and gazed
wistfully at as much as she could see of the step and entrance of the house
next door. Did they mean her to ‘run in half-a-dozen times a day,’ as Mrs.
Meredith had said? Cara had been brought up in her aunt’s old-fashioned
notions, with strenuous injunctions not ‘to make herself cheap,’ and to
cultivate ‘a proper pride.’ She had often been told that running into sudden
intimacy was foolish, and that a girl should be rather shy than eager about
overtures of ordinary friendship. All these things restrained her, and her
own disposition which favoured all reserves. But she could not help going
to the window and looking out wistfully. Only a wall between them! and
how much more cheerful it was on the other side of that wall. Her heart beat
as she saw Oswald come out, not because it was Oswald—on the whole she
would have preferred his mother; but solitude ceased to be solitude when
friendly figures thus appear, even outside. Oswald glanced up and saw her.
He took off his hat—he paused—finally, he turned and came up the steps
just underneath where she was standing. In another moment he came in, his
hat in his hand, his face full of brightness of the morning. Nurse showed
him in with a sort of affectionate enthusiasm. ‘Here is Mr. Oswald, Miss
Cara, come to see you.’
The women servants were all the slaves of the handsome young fellow.
Wherever he went he had that part of the community on his side.
‘I came to see that you are not the worse for your dull dinner last
evening,’ he said. ‘It used to be etiquette to ask for one’s partner at a ball;
how much more after a domestic evening. Have you a headache? were you
very much bored? It is for my interest to know, that I may be able to make
out whether you will come again.’
‘Were you bored that you ask me?’ said Cara. ‘I was very happy.’
‘And, thanks to you, I was very happy,’ he said. ‘Clearly four are better
company than three. Your father and my mother have their own kind of
talking. Why, I have not been in this room since I was a child; how much
handsomer it is than ours! Come, Cara, tell me all about the pictures and the
china. Of course you must be a little connoisseur. Should one say
connoisseuse? I never know. Virtuosa, that is a prettier word, and we are all
in the way of the cardinal virtues here.’
‘But I am not at all a virtuosa. I don’t know. I was a child, too, when I
used to be at home, and I suppose it hurts papa to come into this room. He
has never been here since I came; never at all, I think, since mamma died.’
‘Does he leave you by yourself all the evening? what a shame!’ said
Oswald. ‘Is he so full of sentiment as that? One never knows people. Come,
Cara, if that is the case, it is clear that I must spend the evenings with you.’
Cara laughed frankly at the suggestion. She did not understand what he
meant by a slight emphasis upon the pronouns, which seemed to point out
some balance of duties. She said, ‘I have only been here for two evenings.
The first was very dull. I had nothing to read but that book, and I was not
happy. The second was last night. Oh, I am not accustomed to much
company. I can be quite happy by myself, when I am used to things.’
‘That means you don’t want me,’ said Oswald; ‘but I shall come all the
same. What is the book about? You don’t mean to say you understand that!
What is unconscious cerebration, Cara? Good heavens! how rash I have
been. Are you an F.R.S. already, like the rest of your father’s friends?’
‘I don’t know what it means,’ said Cara, ‘no more than I know about the
china. But I read a chapter that first night; it was always something. You see
there are very few books in this room. They have been taken away, I
suppose. Nobody, except mamma, has ever lived here.’
She gave a little shiver as she spoke, and looked wistfully round. Even in
the morning, with the sunshine coming in, how still it was! Oswald thought
he would like to break the china, and make a human noise, over the head of
the father who was sitting below, making believe to think so much of the
memory of his dead wife, and neglecting his living child. The young man
had a grudge against the elder one, which gave an edge to his indignation.
‘You shall have books,’ he said, ‘and company too, if you will have me,
Cara: that will bring them to their senses,’ he added to himself in a half-
laughing, half-angry undertone.
What did he mean? Cara had no idea. She laughed too, with a little
colour starting to her face, wondering what Aunt Charity would think if she
knew that Oswald meant to spend his evenings with her. Cara herself did
not see any harm in it, though she felt it was a joke, and could not be.
‘You were going out,’ she said, ‘when you saw me at the window. Had
you anything to do? for if you had you must not stay and waste your time
with me.’
‘Why should I have anything to do?’
‘I thought young men had,’ said Cara. ‘Of course I don’t know very
much about them. I know only the Burchells well; they are never allowed to
come and talk in the morning. If it is Reginald, he always says he ought to
be reading; and Roger, he is of course at work, you know.’
‘I don’t know in the least,’ said Oswald; ‘but I should like to learn. What
does this revelation of Rogers and Reginalds mean? I never supposed there
were any such persons. I thought that Edward and myself were about the
limit of friendship allowed to little Cara, and here is a clan, a tribe. I
forewarn you at once that I put myself in opposition to your Reginalds and
Rogers. I dislike the gentlemen. I am glad to hear that they have no time to
talk in the mornings. I, for my part, have plenty of time.’
‘Oh, you are not likely to know them,’ said Cara, laughing, ‘unless,
indeed, Roger comes on Sundays, as he said. They are probably not so rich
as you are. Their father is a clergyman, and they have to work. I should like
that myself better than doing nothing.’
‘That means,’ said Oswald, with great show of savagery, setting his
teeth, ‘that you prefer the said Roger, who must not talk o’ mornings, to me,
presumably not required to work? Know, then, young lady, that I have as
much need to work as your Roger; more, for I mean to be somebody. If I go
in for the bar it is with the intention of being Lord Chancellor; and that
wants work—work! such as would take the very breath away from your
clergyman’s sons, who probably intend to be mere clergymen, and drop into
a fat living.’
‘Roger is an engineer,’ said Cara; ‘he is at the College; he walks about
with chains, measuring. I don’t know what is the good of it, but I suppose it
is of some good. There are so many things,’ she added, with a sigh, ‘that
one is obliged to take for granted. Some day, I suppose, he will have bridges
and lighthouses to make. That one can understand—that would be worth
doing.’
‘I hate Roger!’ said Oswald. ‘I shall never believe in any lighthouses of
his making; there will be a flaw in them. Do you remember the Eddystone,
which came down ever so often? Roger’s will tumble down. I know it. And
when you have seen it topple over into the sea you shall come and see me
tranquilly seated on the woolsack, and recant all your errors.’
Upon which they both laughed—not that there was much wit in the
suggestion, but they were both young, and the one lighted up the other with
gay gleams of possible mirth.
‘However,’ said Oswald, ‘that we may not throw that comparison to too
remote a period, where do you think I was going? Talk of me as an idler, if
you please. Does this look like idling?’ He took from his pocket a little roll
of paper, carefully folded, and breaking open the cover showed her a
number of MS. pages, fairly copied out in graduated lines. Cara’s face grew
crimson with sudden excitement.
‘Poetry!’ she said; but capital letters would scarcely convey all she
meant. ‘Oswald, are you a poet?’
He laughed again, which jarred upon her feelings, for poetry (she felt)
was not a thing to laugh at. ‘I write verses,’ he said; ‘that is idling—most
people call it so, Cara, as well as you.’
‘But I would never call it so! Oh, Oswald, if there is anything in the
world I care for—— Read me some, will you? Oh, do read me something.
There is nothing,’ cried Cara, her lips trembling, her eyes expanding, her
whole figure swelling with a sigh of feeling, ‘nothing I care for so much. I
would rather know a poet than a king!’
Upon this Oswald laughed again, and looked at her with kind
admiration. His eyes glowed, but with a brotherly light. ‘You are a little
enthusiast,’ he said. ‘I called you virtuosa, and you are one in the old-
fashioned sense, for that is wider than bric-à-brac. Yes; I sometimes think I
might be a poet if I had anyone to inspire me, to keep me away from petty
things. I am my mother’s son, Cara. I like to please everybody, and that is
not in favour of the highest pursuits. I want a Muse. What if you were born
to be my Muse? You shall see some of the things that are printed,’ he
added; ‘not these. I am more sure of them when they have attained the
reality of print.’
‘Then they are printed?’ Cara’s eyes grew bigger and bigger, her interest
grew to the height of enthusiasm. ‘How proud your mother must be,
Oswald! I wonder she did not tell me. Does Edward write, too?’
‘Edward!’ cried the other with disdain; ‘a clodhopper; a plodding,
steady, respectable fellow, who has passed for the Civil Service. Poetry
would be more sadly in his way than it is in mine. Oh, yes, it is sadly in
mine. My mother does not know much; but instead of being enthusiastic she
is annoyed with what she does know. That is the kind of thing one has to
meet with in this world,’ he said, with a sigh over his own troubles.
‘Sometimes there is one like you—one more generous, more capable of
appreciating the things that do not pay—with some people the things that
pay are everything. And poetry does not pay, Cara.’
‘I don’t like you even to say so.’
‘Thanks for caring what I say; you have an eye for the ideal. I should
like to be set on a pedestal, and to have something better expected from me.
That is how men are made, Cara. To know that someone—a creature like
yourself—expects something, thinks us capable of something. I am talking
sentiment,’ he said, with a laugh; ‘decidedly you are the Muse I am looking
for. On a good pedestal, with plenty of white muslin, there is not a Greek of
them all would come up to you.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Oswald. Now you are laughing at me.’
‘Well, let us laugh,’ he said, putting his papers into his pocket again.
‘Are you coming to my mother’s reception this afternoon? I hear you were
there yesterday. What do you think of it? Was old Somerville there with his
wig? He is the guardian angel; he comes to see that we all go on as we
ought, and that no one goes too far. He does not approve of me. He writes to
India about me that I will never be of much use in the world.’
‘To India.’
‘Yes; all the information about us goes out there. Edward gives
satisfaction, but not the rest of us. It is not easy to please people so far off
who have not you to judge, but only your actions set down in black and
white. Well, I suppose I must go now—my actions don’t tell for much:
“Went into the house next door, and got a great deal of good from little
Cara.” That would not count, you see; not even if I put down, “Cheered up
little Cara, who was mopish.” Might I say that?’
‘Yes, indeed; you have cheered me up very much,’ said Cara, giving him
her hand. Oswald stooped over her a moment, and the girl thought he was
going to kiss her, which made her retreat a step backwards, her countenance
flaming, and all the shy dignity and quick wrath of her age stirred into
movement. But he only laughed and squeezed her hand, and ran downstairs,
his feet ringing young and light through the vacant house. Cara would have
gone to the window and looked after him but for that—was it a threatening
of a visionary kiss? How silly she was! Of course he did not mean anything
of the kind. If he did, it was just as if she had been his sister, and Cara felt
that her momentary alarm showed her own silliness, a girl that had never
been used to anything. How much an only child lost by being an only child,
she reflected gravely, sitting down after he left her by the fire. How pleasant
it would have been to have a brother like Oswald. And if he should be a
poet! But this excited Cara more when he was talking to her than after he
was gone. He did not fall in with her ideas of the poet, who was a being of
angelic type to her imagination, not a youth with laughter glancing from his
eyes.
That evening Cara sat solitary after dinner, the pretty silver lamp lighted,
with its white moon-orb of light upon the table by her; the fire burning just
bright enough for company, for it still was not cold. She had said, timidly,
‘Shall you come upstairs this evening, papa?’ and had received a mildly
evasive answer, and she thought about nine o’clock that she heard the hall
door shut, just as John came into the room with tea. She thought the man
looked at her compassionately, but she would not question him. The room
looked very pretty in the fire, light and lamplight, with the little tray
gleaming in all its brightness of china and silver, and the little white figure
seated by the fire; but it was very lonely. She took up a book a little more
interesting than the one which had been her first resource, but presently let
it drop on her knee wondering and asking herself would Oswald come?
Perhaps he had forgotten; perhaps he had noticed her shrink when he went
away, and, meaning nothing by his gesture, did not know why she had
retreated from him—perhaps——. But who could tell what might have
stopped him? A boy was not like a girl—he might have been asked
somewhere. He might have gone to the theatre. Perhaps he had a club, and
was there among his friends. All this passed through her head as she sat
with the book in her hand, holding it open on her knee. Then she began to
read, and forgot for the minute; then suddenly the book dropped again, and
she thought, with a sort of childish longing, of what might be going on next
door, just on the other side of the wall, where everything was sure to be so
cheerful. If she could only pierce that unkindly wall, and see through! That
made her think of Pyramus and Thisbe, and she smiled, but soon grew
grave again. Was this how she was to go on living—lonely all the evening
through, her father seeking society somewhere else, she could not tell
where. She thought of the drawing-room at the Hill, and her eyes grew wet;
how they would miss her there! and here nobody wanted Cara. Her father,
perhaps, might think it right that his child should live under his roof; but
that was all he cared apparently; and was it to be always thus, and never
change? At seventeen it is so natural to think that everything that is, is
unalterable and will never change. Then Cara, with a gulp, and a
determination to be as happy as she could in the terrible circumstances, and
above all, to shun Oswald, who had not kept his word, opened her book
again, and this time got into the story, which had been prefaced by various
interludes of philosophising, and remembered no more till nurse came to
inquire if she did not mean to go to bed to-night. So the evening did not
hang so heavy on her hands as she thought.
Next day Oswald came again, and told her of a forgotten engagement
which he had been obliged to keep; and they chatted gaily as before; and he
brought her some poems, printed in a magazine, which sounded beautiful
when he read them, to her great delight, but did not seem so beautiful when
she read them over herself, as she begged she might be allowed to do. After
this there was a great deal of intercourse between the two houses, and
Cara’s life grew brighter. Now and then, it was true, she would be left to
spend an evening alone; but she got other friends, and went to some parties
with Mrs. Meredith, Oswald attending them. He was always about; he came
and had long private talks with her, reading his verses and appealing to her
sympathies and counsel; he walked with her when she went out with his
mother; he was always by her side wherever they went. ‘I know Edward
will cut me out when he comes, so I must make the running now,’ he said
often, and Cara no longer wondered what making the running meant. She
got so used to his presence that it seemed strange when he was not there.
‘It’s easy to see what that will end in,’ said Nurse to John and Cook in
the kitchen.
‘I wish as one could see what the other would end in,’ Cook replied. But
the household watched the two young people with proud delight, going to