The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1895-06-25
A FRESH PROFESSOR.

was an undergraduate and he was
don of Exham college, Oxford. We both
bore the same name - Unwin-Jones.
Why Dame Fate should have gifted two
such antitheses with similar names, why
she should have brought us to one and
the same college is inscrutable. lido not
upbraid / thank her from the bottom
Of my heart. forget the frayed shirts,
"dickeys" and antediluvian collars of
Don Jones that the laundress fathered on
me. do not regret my wines, but not
the bills therefor, that went to his cellar
instead of to my humble cupboard I
forgive the torn envelopes in ladies'
hands marked mot for Professor Jones"
and why?
twas sunny afternoon in the merry
month of May as I returned at o'clock,
in flannels and blazer, from an hour S
tagging at the cricket nets, and tripped
up the stairs Of my digs" that over
looked the dear old college gardens,
whistling ooh, Phyllis MineP' / burst
open the door, and - Are visions
about?" came the lightning thought, as
l saw, seated in the armchair by my
window, gazing out on the glories of the
horse chestnuts opposite, one of the-no
the wide Subsequent events )-most
charming little girls l have ever seen
By the side of the armchair was lee
ture note book, and what / knew only
too well to be Herr Crammer's Latin
Prose. y She rose, bowed deferentially,
and somewhat nervously began ooh,
Professor Jones, l am so sorry am late
Mr. Boothby of Galnaliel said he hadn t
time to look over my prose, and asked
me to bring it to you at 40, and said,
as 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
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 sovereign at the end
of term) One more to the long list of
mistaken identities, but worth them all
Should undeceive 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 80 minutes With all of him could
muster, and REINFORCED by my gold rim
mod rnir,0o
"Ahl-er-let me see, what-or-is
your manner"
ETHEL Mayner, said Ethel-red, for
the rosy hue had mounted to her cheek,
as it did to Virgil's Venus, "I'm-Im
one Of Mr.. Boothby's extension pu-
pills.
'Of course" said and looked pro-
fessorially at card Ipicked up, there's
your name. -
It was a card of the XL's summer
term fixtures. Inwardly vowed it
would be more extension" than cleo
ture' - But did she think was pro-
fessor? Could she not see my chin, in
nocent of razor-the galaxy of London
actresses ON my mantelpiece, the hunt
ing sketches, my bat on the table, the
siphons cheek by jowl with McTavish's
''best?' Did professors play banjos and
whistle "Oh, Phyllis Nine" as they
bounded up to unravel the mysteries OF
''Oratio Obliqua" with fair pupilsp ]
stified surmise and lived only in the
present and the sunshine of-Ethel. She
resumed her seat, and l rang the bell
Up came the landlady.
Bring up tea for two, Mrs. Grabbs, -
/ said, "and send out for the best cake
Bofins have in the show-I-er-mean
the premises .
"Oh, professor, she interposed,
please dom trouble about tea for me. y
Madam" 1 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 you1
chair up to the table. (Oh, how brutal
of mel And / would have carried II
miles for her dear sake, but was q
professor. And she drew her chair SC
close to mine that I could almost
page 81, grunted, with beating
heart, for l knew that the sentences
were plain sailing till about page 80.
ooh, no." she said, "I'm at page
21Op
My heart sank, at least such of it as
was not in my mouth. How could a
twice plowed fresher essay the snares
and pitfalls of page 80?
The passage begins" she contin-
ued, The rotation of crops and ends
at rustic simplicity
It was hopeless. She, Ethel well-read,
was an "Honors" candidate, and l, the
unread-y, nothing but manufacturer
Of ''howlers' and classical faux pas
Err, ah-let me see, err
gasped, and her deep brown eyes,
with look of incipient perplexity, met
NINE Her hands were toying with the
handle Of my bat. Would it had been
mel
81 used the word rotatio," she said
81 hope it's not too doggy
"Oh, no." l sighed, ''it's an excel
lent word-used by Bohn, believed
How could any word she used be
wrong? l thought only of the miserable
Don Jones from whom had saved her.
Fhen Mrs Grabbs came in with the tea
and cake.
ETHEL, a-er-Miss Mayner, I beg
your pardonl Do let me pour you out a
cup of teal'
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 manp' Il had just
turned Is. l good? A hypocrite in a
FOOLS paradiseD "But we don't seem
to be getting ON very quickly" she que
ried- ooh, when were prose and poetry
SO closely allied?) Crops, are they fem
mime or masculine?" she asked.
"Ahem-er-it depends on the kind,
you knowl" replied.
"Seges, is that the correct wordH'
And l, snitten by love and forgetful of
my Latin dictionary, told her it meant
soldier
She slipped her tea and tried to sup
press laugh. 1t was the "soldier" that
did it, and midst her emotion little
red rosebud fell from her breast on to
Herr Crammer's Latin Prose +"
"You funny MANI she rippled. 1t
would have been cruelty from any one
else in the world, but from Ethel it was
sweetness and joy. 1 drew my chair
closer to hers. My left hand strayed to-
ward that cricket bat. A magnetic thrill
was generating. looked and thought
only of her dream face, her eyes, where
the merry twinkle at the soldier" crop
per was just dying away, and was
about to-when knock came at the
door, then Mrs. Crabs, and her words
fall ON my ears like molten lead.