own.

"Gosh! It was wonderful! It even repeated the creak of those old, rusty
springs while you waited for her. And when she came--well, anyway, I
got every word you said, engraved in wax, like one of those old poets of
yours used to write on."

Litton was afraid to ask evidence in verification. Teed supplied the
unspoken demand:

"For instance, the first thing she says to you is: 'Oh, there you are,
my little lover! I thought you'd never come!' And you says, 'Did it miss
its stupid old Stookie?' And she says: 'Hideously! Sit down, honey
heart.' And splung went the spring--and splung again! Then she says:
'Did it have a mis'ble day in hateful old class-room? Put its boo'ful
head on Margy-wargy's shojer.' Then you says--"

"Stop!" Litton cried, raising the only missile he could find, an
inkstand. "Who knows of this infamy besides you?"

"Nobody yet--on my word of honor."

"Honor!" sneered Litton, so savagely that Teed's shameless leer vanished
in a glare of anger.

"Nobody yet! The girls are dying to hear and some of the fellows knew
what I was up to; but I was thinking that I'd tell 'em that the blamed
thing didn't work, provided--provided--"

"Provided?" Litton wailed, miserably.

"Provided you could see your way clear to being a little careless with
your marks on my exam-papers."

Litton sat with his head whirling and roaring like a coffee-grinder. A
multitude of considerations ran through and were crushed into
powder--his honor; her honor; the standards of the university; the
standards of a lover; the unimportance of Teed; the all-importance of
Martha; the secret disloyalty to the faculty; the open disloyalty to his
best-beloved. He heard Teed's voice as from far off:

"Of course, if you can't see your way to sparing my sweetheart's
feelings I don't see why I'm expected to spare yours--or to lie to the
fellows and girls who are perishing to hear how two professors talk when
they're in love."

Another long pause. Then the artful Teed moved to the door and turned
the knob. Litton could not speak; but he threw a look that was like a
grappling-iron and Teed came back.

"How do I know," Litton moaned, "how do I know that you will keep your
word?"

"How do I know that you'll keep yours?" Teed replied, with the insolence
of a conqueror.

"Sir!" Litton flared, but weakly, like a sick candle.

"Well," Teed drawled, "I'll bring you the cylinders. I'll have to trust
you, as one gentleman to another."

"G