red me
our family nostrum I should have taken it without a grimace. I
accepted the proffered glass and drank. Never had anything more
horrible than that liquid fire passed my lips. In a moment I seemed to
be turned inside out and toasting at a roaring blaze, and to increase
my discomfort the Professor poured another dose, many times larger than
the first. Had he held it toward me I should have abandoned my coat
and boots, but to my relief he raised it to his lips and drained it off
with a smile of keen appreciation of its merits.

"Now I feel better," he said, putting the bottle and glass on the
table, and dropping into a chair.

It was strange to me that he, who was perfectly dry, should prescribe
for himself exactly the same remedy that he had given to me for my
wringing wetness. Yet there was no denying the beneficence of the
dose, for I was most uncomfortably warm, and had he been feeling badly
he was certainly now in fine spirits.

Drawing his daughter between his knees, he enfolded her in his arms
protectingly. "Well, boy, I warrant you feel better," he said.

I replied that I did, and if he did not mind I should like to sit a
little farther from the stove.

He consented, laughing. "And now we should introduce
ourselves--formally," he went on. "You have met my daughter, Miss
Blight--Miss Penelope Blight. I am Mr. Blight--Mr. Henderson
Blight--in full, Andrew Henderson Blight. And you?"

"I am David Malcolm, sir," I answered.

"Ah!" He lifted his eyebrows. "You are one of those bumptious
Malcolms."

"Yes, sir," I returned proudly, for the word "bumptious" had a ring of
importance in it, and I had every reason to believe that the Malcolms
were persons of quite large importance.

Why Mr. Blight laughed so loud at my reply I could not understand, but
I supposed that in spite of his saturnine appearance he was a man of
jovial temperament and I liked him all the more.

The wave of merriment past, he regarded me gravely. "Then you must be
the son of the distinguished Judge Malcolm."

"Yes, sir," I said, pride rising triumphant over my polite humility.

"Penelope," he said, as though addressing only his daughter, "we are
greatly honored. Our guest is a Malcolm--a sop of the celebrated Judge
Malcolm."

By this adroit flattery my host won my heart, and in the comfort he had
given me I lost all care for passing time. When I recalled James, it
was with the thought that I was safe and he would f