The Professor's Mystery

rty-five for Bo

ng time; then he shifted his plug of

rted forty m

a prey to the inquisitive alien; and as for me I was at the mercy of the steamship company. For a moment I wondered how I could possibly have doubted my desire to go abroad that summer and to go on that boat though the heavens fell. I thought insanely of automobiles and special trains. Then came the reaction and I settled back comfortably hopeless into the hands of fate. After all I did not care an improper fraction whether I

rching vainly for matters of interest. I exhausted my resources in filling up fifteen minutes, and the hand of the electric clock seemed as trem

nown her well; but the week of intimate gaiety at a Christmas house party had shown her so sweetly merry, so well fashioned in heart and brain and body that the sight of her renewed pleasant memories, like the reopening of a familiar book. She was smiling now; not at me, but with the same humorously pensive little smile that I remembered, that seemed to come wholly from wi

world was somebody cool, somebody amusing, somebody I knew. I picked up my bag and ran up the steps of her car. A

e in the world in July? You belong to Christmas in a sett

in July as you have, Mr. Crosby. You are o

a jolly wee

was the best Christmas of my life," she said mechanically. And then with a sudden return to sunshine: "I suppose I

olarly bearing which, as I had always explain

the tangled fates of the afternoon, my doubtful steamer a

"Look," she said, "you haven't nearly time enoug

beaten path. On the other hand lay the comedy of the present and that flouting of one's own arrangements w

nished, "I am on my way to Stamford," and

row a trifle raised, and an adorable twist at the corners of her mouth. As for me, I tried to look inn

" she said suddenly. "Is

dispensation. But appearances are against you. You

ably to the British museum to dig up a lot of dead autho

ord," I said. "You appeared last Christmas in a character of the daughter

a pause she answered rather wearily, "We've only been in

I touched upon some personal sorrow of her own? She was not in mourning. Yet as she lay back in the green chair, one hand listless in her lap, the other twisting at the slender chain that ran about her neck and lost itself in the bosom of her gown, the fringe of her eyelid clear against the soft shadows of her profile, I imagined in

y bored trying to work off energy. I can't get tired enough to sit still and improve m

there-but there are some friends of mine down at one of those be

know them. I'm going to visit Mrs. Ainslie mysel

definite plans, but just start out and see what happens to me. For six months I've been telling things I care about to a lot of kids that aren't old enough to c

d. "Three months would hardly be time enough for the Far E

ugh all the Arabian Nights and only feel bored and uncomfortable. It all depends upon turning out of your way to pick up surprises. You're walking in the wood and you see something that looks like a root peeping out from between th

y own explanation. But Miss Tabor d

sped; then with a sudden change of tone, "Mr. Crosby, suppose-only for the sake of argument-that you're making this u

esting to do. Then my train was late and I should have missed my steamer anyway and-and then you came along and I thought I migh

id, "Are you as irresponsibl

especially when they were only made to fill up the want of anything more worth while, and have fallen through already. I didn't care a

a logical reason for what they do on

ct reasonably," I retorted, "is th

it was, she thought about it for some min

e. It was unexpected, and it fits into itself perfectly-all the parts of the scene match like a picture-puzzle-and it happened throu

to people without their se

ection I have to life; days and doings are too regular, too much according to schedule. Why is a train less romantic than a stage-coach? Because it runs on time and on a track; it can't do anything but be late. But the stage

ery much has ever happene

ly forget it in your presence. But I have had a few exciting moments, and I want more. I don't care whether they ar

looks at books that way, and pictures, and things that are not real. A moment ago, you put highwaymen in the same class with inns and goos

than by a railroad, anyway. At the w

track sometimes. Do you think you would enjoy the memory

nything does go wrong there is an ugly smash. It's the same way with modern people. Most of us live s

field, and she looked away without answering. Not to make my mistake worse by taking notice of it, I

could be that by the mere touch of an accidental allusion could strike the joy out of a creature so naturally radiant. Whatever it was, it had come upon her within the last six months, or the chances of our Christmas week had been singularly free from reminders of it. Could

umsiness; and she, I suppose, felt annoyed at having shown so palpably an emotion which she had not intended for my eyes. So that, in s

t you?" I asked, as the platform

But there's the trolley now. And it's your car, to

corner of the station on an unsteady run and pursued a little distance with inarticulate shoutings and violent gestures. We were too far off to see him very distinctly, but I thought he had so

He bumped over crossings and rocked around curves at an alarming rate, accompanying the performance with occasional snatches of song; while the conductor, balanced on the back platform, read a newspaper and chewed a toothpick without paying the slightest attention. Where we ran for a long stretch along the highway, an automobile came along and proceeded to have fun with us after the manner of joyous aut

" I asked. "Or is it on

d. "I never went so fast

wheels bumped and thudded over the ties. Miss Tabor caught at my arm with a smothered