Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-08-24
THE PROFESSORS PROBLEM.

81 am quite unable to understand it," said
the professor, signing.
II the professor found himself at fault most
Of his friends would have concluded that the
subject must have been one remarkably Jiff-
cult OF comprehension, for he had spent some
OF the best years of his life over problems SO
exceedingly knotty that they were wont to
speak of him as wonderfully clever man; all
the learned 'ologies, you know, my dear; don't
ask me to explain" with that absence of defini-
ton which adds so much to fame.
And yet, after all, it was nothing SO very re-
markable or extraordinary over which he was
puzzling himself The freak of man and the
caprice of woman would have summed it all
up; but the only 'ology it had to do with hap
pened to be the one the professor knew nothing
about.
"a strange thing-an unaccountable thing"
he repeated emphatically. THAT, because
poor Phillimore fancied me, he should leave
me the care of child. Dear, dear me, if he
had only devoted only a little more time to the
Greek particlesi 1t was sad mistake. Eight
years! Has the child really lived with us eight
years! suppose 1t must be so; and, as Rachel
says, sne Is woman now, and she has found
for some time, fear, the house too dull for
her. have not found it dull" mused the pro-
lessor, tinge OF sadness in his tone. The
years have been happy-the happiest and pleas
ATTEST have known-since little Hetty came
l am sure never knew how much a young girl
has 1t i'll her power to brighten the place she
lives in. How cheerful it has been to hear her
steps about the place! How we should miss
her-Rachel and If she were to leavei But
have been neglecting her. I have forgotten
that she needs something brighter than the
monotonous tenor of her life here. No she is
not happy; now that l come to think of it 1
have not heard her singing for some time"
He fell into thought. Il am to blame" he
said at last aloud; 1.-The house is dull for her,
and am dull, and Rachel is dull. ought to
have thought of it before. l am not fitted,
heaven knows, to have the charge of young
creature like that. ! am afraid Phillimore
made a sad mistake, so far as her happiness
was concerned, when he left her to us. l won
der what are Young girls anticipations-what
surroundings she requires? 1t must be dull
can see that now-to be so constantly with
Rachel. / have even found Rachel little
monotonous myself Yet after all, under
stand SO little of womankindr' calculated the
professor sadly.
The philosophers" he uttered musingy at
last, they had something to say about women,
l believe"
He stretched out his hand and partly tilted
the back of book, then let it reassume its posi-
ton. and scanned his crowded shelves further.
Great thinkers have not disdained the sub
ject l am sorry little Hettie has given up her
singing. Well, WE'LL" he added as he took
down ponderous tome, I'VE will hope for bet
ter things. l am anxious to do my duty by the
child"
An hour had slipped away and the professor,
deep in thought, had laid down his book for
time and was gazing. certain vague sadness
perceptible in his countenance, at the fair
spring sky seen thro rough the fast-shut window.
He was so absorbed that he did not hear light
step pass the door. nor did he even notice it
when the step hestated. The door was gently
nd he fnf hic 10 yla an1
If he had observed it he would not have i'm
agined for moment that the action denoted
any particular interest in himself. 1t was her
way-a pretty. engaging way little Hetty had
from child-that saucy, depreciatory glance
at the philosophers on their shelves. The
philosopher in his chair had grown wont to
look for it when she passed.
Little Hettie" was a woman, young woman
certainly, and a very pretty and bright-eyed
one; but the fact that she had quite grown up
would long ago have been apparent to any eyes
but Mr.. Rochesters. She had a charming
rounded figure; the prettiest little love locks,
chestnut and curling. framed the piquancy of
her face; her eyes alone were childish. limo
cent soft-fringed brown eyes they were as
clear as moorland pool, vet wilful enough at
times when Hetty chose. and, as q child she
had chosen tolerably often. And there was
quite womanly air of decision about her. She
considered she had arrived at years of discre-
ton and she knew her own mind. For the
matter of that she had known her own mind
for long time and she felt it to be thous-
and pities the professor did not know his.
Hetty closed the door with sigh and went
slowly upstairs to her own room, sitting down,
when she reached it, not far from the glass
She had been accustomed to admire. being
young and pretty, her own pleasing reflection:
but 1t had in some way lost its charms for her
lately. She had begun to object to her hair
which was curly and would not keep smooth
ok ~ fhn MI of ov Oh ~.Al
other small details.
1T will always be the same" asserted Hetty
at last aloud, for there was no one by to hear
her. and she shook her head scornfully, con-
temningiy, at her pretty image in the mirror
II know what he thinks. Because he is six
teen or seventeen years older than 1 am, and
because he has thought and thought till he is
getting bald and his nice chestnut hair is
growing a little gray, and because he loves
those miserable philosophers-musty, detest-
able stony hearted old thingsI-that nothing
young, or bright, or cheerful can ever have
anything to do with him. Why can't he see
that he is only thlrty-eight after all? He's not
bent in two yet III spite of his books. The
looking-glass might tell him little; and he has
the incest dark eyes ever saw, and he is a
muffl He is miserable if so away for dav-
Miss Rachel always says so-and he follows
me-about the room with his eyes; and he loves
mel know he loves me--if he is as blind as q
bait
huu "OIidu SIOWly little
Hetty softly land l have seen other people
now; and know, what have known for ever
so long, that there is nobody-nobody like him.
And he will never, never find it out l shall
actually-have-to propose to- him - my
self!'
1t was striking II down stairs; the professor
pushed his book away and gave a long heavy
sigh. at appears evident" he said musingly
a tinge of sadness in his tone, ''that woman
from time immemoriai has always found her
proper sphere and greatest happiness in the
capacities of wife and mother. l must find
home for little Hetty. 1t is right that should
do my duty by the child"
IL
Frederick WHEREFORE" said the professor
musingly, would he do for Hetty? He is q
little old--a good six years her senior, dare
say, but it is just possible that she might not
object to that disparity. He is a pleasant young
fellow and is, on the whole, I think, the
most desirable of the young men Of our
acquaintance. l hope he will make the child
happy" added her guardian with lips q little
compressed. II should like to make some
inquiries about him if / knew how to set to
work.
Charles ENTHUSIASTICALLY, now I come to
think Of it, We know a good many young men.
The child need not be without choice. In fact
it is rather wonder, though know so little of
the ways of women. that it has never occurred
to her to think of these things for herself. He
takes some interest in science. Hetty may not