firmly punished, in the young;
for by reason of their immaturity they have but little judgment when to
practise it; but to the old it is frequently of the greatest service.
Intending, therefore, to be as agreeable as possible, I approached
Professor Lysander Totts with a feigned knowledge of his work. Shaking
him cordially by the hand, I said, "Ah, yes; Pecan Nuts!"

"What?" he replied, staring.

"Why, Pecan Nuts!" I repeated. "Let me congratulate----"

"My name is Totts," he interrupted.

"To be sure!" I exclaimed. "Who has not read The Fuel of the Future?"

"I haven't," said Totts.

I corrected myself hastily. "What an absurd slip of the tongue!" I
gayly ejaculated. "I meant Mustard Plasters in Pharaoh's Time."

"I haven't read that, either," said Totts.

I should now have been at some loss, but a plaintive voice behind me
said, "Hup, hup, hup, hup."

I turned, and saw a smiling little old man, with delicate silver locks
that hung well-nigh to his collar.

"Hup, hup," said he again, very amiably.

I turned back to Totts in bewilderment.

"He stutters," Totts explained.

The voice behind me now said with a sudden sort of explosion, "I wrote
it."

I turned again, and, catching both his hands as a drowning man is said
to catch a straw, I wrung them earnestly and long. "A great work!" I
called out to him, as if he were deaf. "A very great work!" And not well
knowing what I did, I further shouted to Miss Appleby, who was passing
us: "He wrote it! Pecan Nuts!"

"Hup, hup," said the little man. "Mustard Plasters."

Little as I owe Miss Appleby, I must always hold her memory in gratitude
for her coming forward at this extreme moment.

"Of course it is Mustard Plasters!" she said, with delightful sweetness;
"and you must write your name in my copy, dear Professor Egghorn."

He extended an eager hand for the volume.

"It is in my trunk," she continued promptly; "and your signature will
make a unique gem of what is already a precious treasure. And you, dear
Professor Totts, when I am unpacked, you will surely not refuse me the
same honor? Professor Totts, you know," she added to me, "has proved
that Cleopatra was a man."

"Then who wrote Pecan Nuts?" I whispered to her hastily.

"He hasn't come yet," she hastily whispered back.

"I am sure," said Kibosh, leading a tall new arrival among us, "that
Professor Camillo Cottsill needs no introduction here. We all welcome
the man who has said the last word