"Just listen to this!" he blurted out, banging his paper down on the desk and spreading it open with shaking hands. As he read, he ran his finger down the column, singling out a phrase here and there, and stumbling a little over unfamiliar words. The recent ento-mo-logical discoveries of Professor George Marvin have set the scientific world in a flurry. . . . Professor Marvin is now unanimously conceded to be the greatest entomologist living. He knows his Hex-a-poda and Myri-a-poda as the most of us know our alphabet. . . . The humble home of the learned man has become a Mecca, toward which both great and small of the scientific world are bending eager steps. . . . The career of Marvin reads like a romance, and he has fought his way to his present enviable position by sheer grit, and ability, having had to combat with all the narrow criticism and misconceptions usual in the case of a progressive thinker in a small town. Indeed, it is said that even now his native village fails to recognize the honor that is hers. "Jehoshaphat!" exclaimed Seth Wilber faintly. Fletcher folded the paper and brought his fist down hard upon it. "There's more--a heap more," he cried excitedly. "But how--what--" stammered Jared, whose wits were slow on untrodden paths. "It's old Marvin's son--don't you see?" interrupted Squire Fletcher impatiently. "He 's big!--famous!" "'Famous'! What for?" "Zounds, man!--did n't you hear?" snarled the Squire. "He's a famous entomologist. It's his bugs and spiders." "Gosh!" ejaculated Jared, his hand seeking the bald spot on the back of his head. "Who'd ever have thought it? Gorry! Let's have a look at it." And he opened the paper and peered at the print with near-sighted eyes. It was on Monday, three days later, that Jared, Seth, and the Squire were once more accosted in the hotel office by a man they did not know. "Good-evening, gentlemen, I--" "You don't even have to say it," cut in Jared, with a nourish of both hands. "We know why you're here without your telling." "An' you've come ter the right place, sir--the right place," declared Seth Wilber, pompously. "What Professor Marvin don't know about bugs an' spiders ain't wuth knowin'. I tell ye, sir, he's the biggest entymollygist that there is ter be found." "That he is," affirmed the Squire, with an indulgently superior smile toward Wilber--"the very greatest _entomologist_ living," he corrected carefully. "And no wonder, sir; he's studied bugs from babyhood. _I've known him all his life--all his life, sir_, and I always said he'd make his mark in the world." "Oh, but--" began the stranger. "'Member when he took the parson's hat to catch butterflies in?" chuckled Jared, speaking to the Squire, but throwing furtive glances toward the stranger to make sure of his attention. "Gorry--but he was a cute one! Wish 't had been my hat. I 'd 'a' had it framed an' labeled, an' hung up on the wall there."