Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1905-07-21
CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.
Salmon trout, roast chickens, peas
and potatoes. Now l wonder how a
cherry tart would do, or would it be
| too frivolous, Daddy?"
| The voice seemed to come from the
| floor, somewhere down by the white mus
lin window curtains.
| Prof. Laybourne, who was engrossed
in the minute examination of the me-
chanism of a grosshopper's thigh through
| his famous microscope, raised his vener-
able head for one moment as the small
childish voice struck upon his ear
what is my Kitten chattering about
| down there?' he said, making a pencil
note upon the manuscript by his SIDE
81 was only wondering if old men liked
cherry tart, Daddy"
whenever they can get it, | should
say, Kitten! Apropos of what is that
wise remark, and what old man are you
proposing to regale in so succulent
fashion?''
what old man? Oh, daddy! do be-
lieve you have beetles on the brain to
such an extent that you are losing your
memory. Have you forgotten that this
is the day that your friend, Mr.. Des-
mond, is coming to stay with you"
''And you call him an odd man. Kit
ten? Why, he is quite lad"
you said he was thirty-eight, Dad
dy," replied the small voice reproachful-
ly. 81 call that quite old. Why, he is
twenty-five years older than l am, old
enough to be my father-why, it's near
ly forty" in a voice of horror.
| The professor laughed. "You must
consider me a sort of Methuselah, fos-
sill of preAdamite date, then. Do you
know that l am over sixty, Kitten?"
| "Ah, but you are my Daddy" she an
swered, with indescribable tenderness in
her voice.
pray, what have you got upon your
mind, Miss Laybourne inquired her
| father, with smile in answer to his
| daughters last observation.
"Your dinner, Mr.. Professor. l have
noticed, daddy, that although you are
very great man, your intellect is often
more sluggish than mine Now give me
man about to arrive by the o'clock
train on a certain day, my mind instantly
| fixes itself upon one idea, and that idea
is naturally dinner; your brain seems
to be brought far more slowly and with
| uncomfortable difficulty to this point
mot at all, Kitten" answered the pro-
| fessor, taking up letter which lay upon
| the table; "since have heard this morn
| ing from Brian Desmond that he will
not arrive till 10 o'clock tonight, my
intellect naturally bounded beyond the
dinner hour at once, and fixed itself
upon"
Supper interrupted Kitten, triumph
! antly.
"And what are we to have for supper,
then?"
"Why, the same thing as dinner, to
| be sure; salmon trout cold, chickens
cold, salad instead of peas, and cherry
tart cold, too; that is to say, if you
think he will eat cherry tart" she added,
with a curiously childish anxiety.
But you will have to so to bed, Kit
ten; little girls can't sit up to late sup
pers. Besides, Desmond is coming to
see me upon business, so we shall do
just as we'll without you tonight
Kitten laughed. She did not often
| laugh. Her fun was more often ex-
pressed in a certain demure dryness pc
culiar to herself-laughter was not, per-
| haps, indigenous to the soil of the pro-
| fessor's household; but when at rare
| intervals Kitten laughed, her laugh was
very sweet to heaB. 1t was never loud
or noisy, it could hardly even be called
hearty, and yet it was pleasant to listen
to, like the ripping note of a Gagged
bird that MARBLES a response to some
| inner gush of feeling of its own.
She fluttered away out of the room,
her thoughts back again with the cherry
tart and the supper, and the professor
was left alone.
| But he did not go back to his micro
scope. He leaned his pale face, lined
and scored like an ancient parchment
with study and thought, upon his hand
and sighed.
what is to become of herr" he said
aloud. Strange creature, half mine,
half her mothers, inheriting something
from each, and from both the fatal deli
cacy of constitution that was common
| to us both; who is to care for her when
I am gone? Into whose hands am I to
| leave my frail treasure, with her wild,
unframed mind and her shrewd, sensitive
soul? Will Desmond help me, wonder,
for the sake of the service once rem
dered to his father? All, we shall see,
we shall see. l can leave my manu-
scripts and collections to my country,
but to whom shall l leave my child,
sweeter legacy than any other"
The remains of the cold supper, which
| had caused so many anxious thoughts to
the young housekeeper, lay still upon
the table; ample justice had been done
| to it by the late-arriving guest. A lamp
with a wide red silk shade lighted the
room with warm radiance, some roses
in glass bowls decorated the simple feast,
while dish of crimson currants, piled
up high in an antique Chelsea dish, add
ed yet another touch of feminine taste
to the repast.
'The old boy has good housekeeper,"
said Brian Desmond to himself, as he
leaned back in his chair.
He vas little at loss, certainly, to