e was finality in her tone, and a sensitive-minded
professor would have moved on at once, for the cocoa was boiling over,
and had to be rescued, and he might have seen they did not want him;
but he lingered affably.

"Well, that certainly is an original idea. Quite so. It really makes
one quite hungry to think of it. That certainly looks like an
attractive repast."

There was nothing for it but to invite him to partake, which Allison
did as curtly as he dared, considering that the intruder was one of
his major professors, and hoping sincerely that he would refuse. But
Professor Bowman did not refuse. No such good chance, and quite to
Julia Cloud's annoyance--for she wanted to have the talk out with her
children--he sat himself down on the rock as if he were quite
acclimated to picnics in November, and accepted so many sandwiches
that Leslie, seated slightly behind and out of his sight, made mock
signs of horror lest there should not be enough to go around.

It appeared that he had started out to search for his pocket-knife,
which his young son had borrowed and lost somewhere in that region as
nearly as he could remember, and thus had come upon the picnickers.

"Old pill!" growled Allison gruffly when at last the unwelcome guest
had departed hastily to a class, with many praises for his dinner and
a promise to call to see them in the near future. "Old pill! Now we'll
never dare to come here again as long as he's around. Bother him. I
wish I'd told him to go to thunder. We don't want him. He lives right
up here over that bluff. His wife's dead, and his sister or aunt or
something keeps house for him. She looks like a bottle of pickles!
Say, Cloudy, we'll just be out evenings for a while till he forgets
it."

But Dr. Bowman did not forget it as Allison had hoped. He came the
very next week on a stormy night when no one in his senses would go
out if he could help it; and there were the gay little household, with
the addition of Jane Bristol and Howard Letchworth, down on their
knees before the fire, roasting chestnuts, toasting marshmallows,
and telling stories. His grim, angular presence descended upon the
joyous gathering like a wet blanket; and the young people subsided
into silence until Leslie, rising to the occasion, went to the
piano and started them all singing. A wicked little spirit seemed
to possess her, and she picked out the most jazzy rag-time she
could find, hoping to freeze out the unwelcome guest, but