“I would be willing to ride home in the bottom of an express wagon,” declared the Professor. “Even a coal cart I would not despise.” “But there’s not a vehicle in sight!” deplored Kearns. “Not even an ash-cart, or a hearse,” declared the Professor. “There’s just one more nip left in the flask,” said Kearns, sadly; “let’s take that and move on.” “I rarely indulge,” began the Professor, “but----” “Yes, I know!” interrupted Kearns hastily; “you’ve mentioned that before. Kindly help yourself.” “But,” said the Professor, sternly, “I was going to add that I felt it my duty to do so upon this occasion out of regard for you.” “Regard for me!” exclaimed Kearns in perplexity. “Yes,” continued the Professor. “For some time past I have noticed, sir, that the tip of your nose is becoming unduly red, and that your eyes have the congested appearance which betokens incipient intoxication. I do not know, sir, whether in due regard for you--who, from the position you hold, are presumed to pose as a conservator of public morals--it is not my duty to forthwith dispose of that little which yet remains in this pernicious flask.” “Professor,” declared Kearns, mockingly, “out of consideration for you, I have hesitated to speak earlier, but it now is incumbent upon me to say that I have had my eye on you for more than ten minutes past. You, as an instructor of the community and a trainer of budding youth, should stand forth as a firm and shining example of all that is straightforward and goodly, and yet it is my duty to inform you that your present way is not straightforward nor is your walk upright. In a word, you are staggering, Professor.” “Sir!” exclaimed the Professor with dignity. “A fact, sir!” declared Kearns. “I will draw a mark upon this path and I’ll wager two to one you can’t walk it in a straight line.” “I can’t accept your test,” said the Professor cautiously. “I’m somewhat fatigued to-day and I admit a certain peculiar weakness in the knees.” “H’m!” exclaimed Kearns. “Shall we divide?” asked the Professor softly, holding the flask in his hand. “Agreed!” whispered back Kearns. Once more they started, speculating as they went over what strange necromancy the Doctor could have exerted to work such curious effects alike upon their surroundings and their persons. When about a mile from the village they saw approaching two women, carrying between them a basket. “Good-day, Ma’am,” said Kearns with much politeness, as they met; “it’s a warm day.” “Yes, sir,” answered the elder woman, “it is a warm day, but seasonable for this time of year.” “Why,” said Kearns, “you don’t usually have it as warm as this out here so early in the year, do you?” “Early in the year!” exclaimed the woman. “Sure it’s not too warm for the end of July.” _The end of July!_