"Of course I will, dear. Don't be vexed. I always meant to tell you, some time or other. I asked her whose were the goloshes; the umbrella with the--er--decided figure; the suspended cap and gown. Martha said they were the Professor's. I inquired whether the Professor stayed to tea. You really can't blame me for asking that; because I had gone to the kitchen for the express purpose of carrying out the tea-tray, yours and mine; but _not_ the Professor's. No possible pleasure could have resulted, either to you, or to me, or to the Professor, from my unexpected appearance with the tea-tray, if the Professor had been there. Now could it? I think it would be nice of you, dear, and only fair, if, remembering the peculiar circumstances of that afternoon, you just said: 'No; it couldn't.' "Well, I asked Martha whether the Professor stayed to tea, and heard that 'Thank goodness, no!' we drew the line at that, except when Miss _H_ann came too. With the awful possibility of Miss _H_ann 'coming too,' on one of my priceless days, I naturally desired a little light thrown on Miss _H_ann. I was considerably relieved to learn that Miss _H_ann suffers from the peculiar complaint--mental, I gather--of 'fancying herself in a bath-chair.' This might be no hindrance to the '_h_egging on' propensities, but it certainly diminished the chances of the 'coming too.' That was all, dear." "Boy, you ought to have been ashamed of yourself!" "So I was, the moment I saw you walk down the lawn. But you really needn't look so indignant. I was working for you, at the same time." "Working for me?" "Yes, dear. I told Martha her wisps would look nicer if she curled them. I also suggested 'invisible pins.' If you like I will tell you how I came to know about 'invisible pins'; but it is a very long story, and not _specially_ interesting, for the lady in the case was my great-aunt." "Oh, Boy," said Miss Charteris, laughing in spite of herself; "I wish you were the size of my Little Boy Blue on the sands at Dovercourt. I would dearly like to shake you." "Well," he said, "you did more than shake me, just now. You gave me about the worst five minutes I ever had in my life. Christobel? You don't really care about the Professor?" "Boy, dear, I really do. I have cared about him very much, for years." "Yes, as a woman loves a book; but not as a woman loves a man." "Explain your meaning, please." "Oh, hang it all!" exclaimed the Boy, violently. "Do you love his mouth, his eyes, his hair----?" The Boy choked, and stopped short.