"Now that was just what I did, but I was not pleased to have Miss Wyeth know it. Although my time was chiefly spent in killing time, I had once, in a fit of energy, succeeded in writing some verses 'To a Tomtit,' so I evaded a humiliating confession by saying that I had done a little work in ornithology. "'Good!' cried the professor, beaming all over. 'I knew you were a fellow-scientist. Possibly you are a brother-member of the Boston Dodo Society of Pythagorean Research. Are you a dodo?' "I shook my head. 'No, I am not a dodo.' "'Only a jay?' "'A--what?' I said, angrily. "'A jay. We call the members of the Junior Ornithological Jay Society of New York, jays, just as we refer to ourselves as dodos. Are you not even a jay?' "'I am not,' I said, watching him suspiciously. "'I must convert you, I see,' said the professor, smiling. "'I'm afraid I do not approve of Pythagorean research,' I began, but the beautiful Miss Wyeth turned to me very seriously, and, looking me frankly in the eyes, said: "'I trust you will be open to conviction.' "'Good Lord!' I thought. 'Can she be another lunatic?' I looked at her steadily. What a little beauty she was! She also, then, belonged to the Pythagoreans--a sect I despised. Everybody knows all about the Pythagorean craze, its rise in Boston, its rapid spread, and its subsequent consolidation with mental and Christian science, theosophy, hypnotism, the Salvation Army, the Shakers, the Dunkards, and the mind-cure cult, upon a business basis. I had hitherto regarded all Pythagoreans with the same scornful indifference which I accorded to the faith-curists; being a member of no particular church, I was scarcely prepared to take any of them seriously. Least of all did I approve of the 'business basis,' and I looked very much askance indeed at the 'Scientific and Religious Trust Company,' duly incorporated and generally known as the Pythagorean Trust, which, consolidating with mind-curists, faith-curists, and other flourishing salvation syndicates, actually claimed a place among ordinary trusts, and at the same time pretended to a control over man's future life. No, I could never listen--I was ashamed of even entertaining the notion, and I shook my head. "'No, Miss Wyeth, I am afraid I do not care to listen to any reasoning on this subject.' "'Don't you believe in Pythagoras?' demanded the professor, subduing his excitement with difficulty, and adding another knot to his coat-tails. "'No,' I said, 'I do not.' "'How do you know you don't?' inquired the professor. "'Because,' I said, firmly, 'it is nonsense to say that the soul of a human being can inhabit a hen!' "'Put it in a more simplified form!' insisted the professor. 'Do you believe that the soul of a hen can inhabit a human being?' "'No, I don't!' "'Did you ever hear of a hen-pecked man?' cried the professor, his voice ending in a shout. "I nodded, intensely annoyed. "'Will you listen to reason, then?' he continued, eagerly.