"Viola has just stepped over to the parsonage. She will return in a
moment. Won't you please be seated?"

Serviss took a chair, quite ready--even eager--to listen to the
further confidences which he perceived his hostess was about to give
him.

"I hope you won't think it strange, professor--"

He interrupted her. "Please don't call me professor."

"I beg your pardon, sir. I understood that you were a professor in a
university."

She seemed disappointed, and he explained: "It's true I am in the
hand-book as a member of the faculty, and I plead guilty to the degree
of doctor of philosophy--_that_ I am proud of; but to be called
professor robs me of my young humanity." This humorous explanation
seemed to confuse her, and he added, kindly and naturally: "Really,
Mrs. Lambert, I am a chemist and experimentalist in biology. I have no
class-room work, because the college prefers to have me make what they
call 'original investigation.' And, pray, let me say that while I am
very willing to assist your daughter, or to advise you in any way, I
see very little of musical New York. My work confines me to my 'shop'
very closely, and when I go out I associate almost wholly with my
peculiar kind. However, I can easily secure information as to the best
schools of music, for I have several friends who know all about it. I
interrupted you--please continue."

This pleasant, straightforward speech restored her confidence. "I
think I was about to say, sir, that it may seem strange to you that I
should so suddenly ask your advice, but, you see--"

"Oh, not at all," he genially interrupted. "I am consulted on all
kinds of matters; in fact, I pass for a real doctor--out on the trail.
I carry a little medicine-case for emergencies, and I assume all the
authority of the regular practitioner--on occasion. I shall be very
sorry if my distaste for the title 'professor' leads you to think me
unsympathetic. I shall be very glad to assist you in any way."

"Thank you. You see, I was brought up to esteem learning, and we
seldom meet one of your eminence--we are so completely out of the
world here--it is a great pleasure to us--"

Footsteps just outside of the screen-door announced the return of the
girl, who entered composedly, followed by a young man. Her manner was
cold, her glance aloof, as she greeted Serviss.

"I'm glad you came," she said. "I was afraid you would forget us." She
turned towards her escort, who had halted in the doorway