o-night? I
don't understand this."

In came Nancy, and Professor Scotch was close behind her.

"It's so good of you both to call!" gushed the widow, girlishly.
"We'll have a real lovely little chat."

Professor Scotch started back as he caught sight of his rival, and the
two glared at each other. Then Scotch growled:

"You here?"

"Yes, sir," squeaked Jenks, defiantly. "Who's got a better right, I'd
like to know?"

"But I'd have you to understand I was invited."

"So was I."

"But I received an invitation from this particular lady."

"So did I."

"Set right down on the sofy, Professor Scotch," urged Nancy. "We'll
pop some corn, and eat some apples, and be real sociabul."

"Madame," said the little man, with great dignity, "I think there is
some mistake."

"You'd like some steak?" exclaimed Mrs. Cobb, in surprise. "I never
heerd of people havin' steak to treat callers on. I don't b'lieve
there's a bit in the house. I s'pose you do git awful sick of the food
they have over to the 'cademy. Now, if you was a married man, and hed
a wife to cook for ye----"

"I say I think there is a mistake in this matter."

"Beefsteak in a platter? Yes, that's a good way to serve it."

The little professor gave a gasp, and collapsed onto the sofa. And
Frank promptly jabbed a hatpin up through the sofa, so that it
penetrated the professor to a distance of about a quarter of an inch.

CHAPTER XXII.

A LIVELY CALL.

"Whoop!" roared the big voice of the little man, and Professor Scotch
shot into the air like a jumping-jack out of a box. "Wow!" he howled,
clutching convulsively at that part of his person which had felt the
hatpin. "What did I sit down on?"

The widow looked frightened, and Professor Jenks looked astonished.

"What did I sit down on?" repeated Professor Scotch, his red hair
bristling with anger.

"Why, you sat on the sofa, sir," squeaked Jenks.

"Then there must be a whole nest of wasps concealed in that sofa!"
shouted Scotch. "I was stung, or I was stabbed--I don't know which."

"Why, I'm sure I cannot imagine what the matter with you can be,"
fluttered the widow, in distress.

"Well, I don't know what is the matter with your old sofa."

He spoke so loudly that she understood him, and she immediately turned
up her nose.

"Old sofa, sir--old sofa! There is nothing the matter with that sofa.
Your language is surprisingly offensive, sir."

"Te-he, he, he!" giggled Jenks.