The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1895-05-16
A FRESH PROFESSOR.

ne. | do not regret my wines, but not
the bills therefor, that went 10 his cellar
instead OF to my humble cupboard
forgive the torn envelopes in ladies
hands marked mot for Professor Jones
everything. and why?
1t was Il SAMMY afternoon in the merry
month Of May as / returned at O'Clock,
III hmnels and a blazer, from an hours
tagging At thc cricket nets, and tripiea
up the stairs Of my digs that over
looked the dear old college gardens,
whistIug oh, Phyllis Mnef | burst
open the door, and - Are visions
about came the lightning Thought as
| saw, seated in the armchair 10y my
window, gazing out on the glories of the
horse chestnuts opposite, one Of the-nol
the wide subsequent events most
charming little girls | have ever seen
By the side Of the armchair Wis Il lee
ture note book, and what | knew only
too Wcll to be Herr Crammer's Latin
Prose. She rose, bowed deferentia =,
and somewhat nerVously began: "Oh,
PROFESSOR Jones, | an so sorry | am late
Mr. Boothby Of Gamaliel said he hadn't
me to bring it to you at 40, and said,
us you sometimes took his work, you
would correct it for me.
saw it ALL or rather | saw nothing
but her-slim, petite, with stray strands
of nut brown hair peeping from beneath
a dainty straw hat trimmed with mar
guerites. The porter had directed her to
my rooms instead of to those of the pro
fessor Il gave him a sovereign at the end
Of teIm) One more to the long list of
mistaken identities, but worth them all
Should | undcceive her? And thought
of the dryasdust Jones. He was the sea
monster | was Perseus, and she was
Andromeda. "A thousand times no,
said my heart | shall be a professor
for 30 minutes With all Of him | could
muster, and re enforced by my gold rim
med pince nez-
"Ah !-er-let mo see, what-or-is
your name|'
Ethel Mayner, " said Ethel-red, for
the rosy hue had mounted to her cheek,
It's 1t did to Vrgil's Venus Il MI m
one of Mi Boothby's extension pu.
pills. -
"Of course, " | said and looked pro.
fessoriully at card picked up, "here's
your lame. y
1t was Il card Of the MIS- summer
term fixtures. Inwardly | vowed it
would be more extension than Ice
ture. But did She think | WAS pro.
fe5sor? Could She not see my chin, in
noeent Of ar 2or--the galaxy of London
actresses on ~ mmtelpiCce, the hunt.
ing sketches, my bat on the table the
siphons check Ivy jowl with Mclavishs
"best;' DHl professors play banjos and
whistle oh, Phyllis Mine. as they
bounded up to unrayel the mysteries of
"Oratio Obliqua' with fair pupils? |
stifcd sumise and lived only in the
present and the sunshine of-Ethcl She
resumed her seat, and | rang the bell
Up came the landlady
Bring up tea for two, Mrs Gtrabbs, -
| said, and send out for the best cake
Boflins have in the show-I-er-mean
the premises -
"Oh, professor, -" she interposed,
"please don trouble about tea for me "
Madam" | rejoined, I'VE cannot
discuss the position Of Caesar in winter
quarters or that plebeian bricklayer
Balbus without some light refreshment
Come let us commence. Bring yolr
chair up to he table. " (Oh, how brutal
of me! And | would have carried it
miles for her dear sake, but | was "A
professor. And she drew her chair so
close to mine that | could almost
Page 81, | grunted, with beating
heart, for | knew that the sentences
were plain sailing till about page 30.
ooh, no, She said, Il m at page
2l0r'
My heart sank, at least such of it as
was not in my mouth. How could
twice plowed fresher essay the snares
and pitfalls Of page 210?
THE passage begins" she coutin
led, d" The rotation of crops and ends
at rustic simplicity.
1t was hopeless. She Ethel well-rcad,
was an "Honors' candidate, and |, the
nnread-y nothing but a manufacturer
of 'hoWlers and classical faux pas.
Err. ah--lct me see, err
gaspel, and her deep brown eyes,
with look OF lnclplent perpleNlty, met
mime Her hands We're toying with the
handle of my bat Would 1t had been
me-
4 used the word rotatio, she said
I hope its not too doggy
"Oh, no, - sighed, tits an excel.
lent word-u,ed by Bohn, believe"
How could any word She used be
wrong thought only of the miserable
Don Jones from whom ! had saved her
men airs ts5.,.. - he Tea
aud cake
ethel, a--er-Miss Manner, beg
your pardon Do let me pour You ont q
cup of tea =
The emphasis was more undergradu.
atey than PROFESSIONAL, the work of i'm
pulse rather than discretion, but pru-
dence was out when beauty was in.
'Oh, thank you, she smiled You
are dear good old man y Il had just
turned Is. | goodY A hypocrite in
fool s paradise!) But we don t seem
to be getting on very quickly'" she que
ried. (Oh, when were prose and poetry
SO closely allied?) Crops, are they fem
mime or masculine?' she asked !