The Family
looked with panic toward the door by which he had
come in; but the Professor wouldn’t hear of his
going, and picked up his telescope to prevent
his escape. As he carried it into the house and
put it down in the hall, he noticed that it was
strangely light for its bulk. Mrs. St. Peter introduced the guest to her two little girls, and asked
him if he didn’t want to go upstairs to wash his
hands. He disappeared; as he came back some¬
thing disconcerting happened. The front hall and
the front staircase were the only hard wood in the
house, but as Tom came down the waxed steps,
his heavy new shoes shot out from under him, and he
sat down on the end of his spine with a thump.
Little Kathleen burst into a giggle, and her elder sister looked at her reprovingly; Mrs. St. Peter apologized for the stairs.
“I’m not much used to stairs, living mostly in ’dobe houses,” Tom explained, as he picked himself up.
At luncheon the boy was very silent at first. He sat looking admiringly at Mrs. St. Peter and the little girls. The day had grown warm, and the Professor thought this was the hottest boy he had ever seen. His stiff white collar began to melt, and his handkerchief, as he kept wiping his face with it, became a rag. “I didn’t know it would be so warm up here, or I’d have picked a lighter suit,” he said, embarrassed by the activity of his skin.
—117—
