“Dr. Pinfold is a man of very dull wit; he cannot take my theories in,” said the learned Thud. “I don’t like a fellow who is always cutting stupid jokes: when he wishes to laugh at nothing he laughs at me.”
“Surely you do not reckon yourself nothing,” observed Io.
Thud did not see the point of the observation, so went on with his explanation of the nature of speech. “My theory about the existence of a variety of languages is this,”—the head of the speaker inclined to its position of deep thought as he went on after a pause,—“every country has its peculiar language, just as it has its peculiar fauna and flora: we don’t meet with alligators in Oxford Street, or gather buttercups at the North Pole. When tribes of ancient times wandered to India, Japan, or England, they gradually, by absorbing air-globules in each region, breathed them out again in various tongues.”
The chaplain slightly raised his eye-brows in surprise on hearing notions so original propounded in so solemn a manner.
Io observed, “We have a very different reason for the confusion of tongues given in the Bible.”
“Oh, the Bible is an antiquated book,” said the owl; “the present enlightened age demands fresh theories and ideas.”
“Boy!” exclaimed Oscar Coldstream sternly, “take off the shoes of thy folly when treading on holy ground.”
Even Thud looked somewhat startled at his brother-in-law’s unexpected rebuke. The soul of Io was quivering with joy, as when the chalice of the white water-lily trembles in the soft south breeze. Her joy was not on account of Thud’s receiving a well-earned reproof, though she thought that it might do him good; it was because her husband had been able and willing to give it. Oscar, since his illness, had appeared so crushed that he had almost lost not only his spirits but his spirit. Even Thud had never roused him to a display of indignation till now.
“That flash of anger was just like the gleam of lightning which tells us that longed-for rain is coming!” thought the hopeful young wife. “Oscar, my darling, looked almost like his former self for a moment; and he spoke in defence of God’s Word. Oh, all will be well yet; we shall be so happy again!”
Thud was by no means so well pleased as his sister. To be called a boy, and reprimanded for folly, was more than the poor owl could bear. “I am going out,” he said sulkily, rising and moving towards the door, but not before providently filling one of his hands with almonds and raisins from the dish before him.