He was interested himself and he interested Nan. She took fire from his enthusiasm. He went to the board and illustrated his meaning with bold, rapid strokes of the chalk. He even erased problems and examples, in his eagerness to explain to an intelligent, youthful mind, ideas that he had long since evolved but had not put into words before.
“Hoity-toity!” he cried at last, in his odd, querulous way. “I’ve rubbed out half my work for to-morrow. Nancy Sherwood, you’ve bewitched me. You’ve set me talking on a theme I don’t often touch. Now, are you satisfied?”
“I’m beginning to be just awfully interested,” Nan declared, rising with a sigh. “Is the lesson over?”
“Ah! ’tis over,” he growled, looking ruefully at his free-hand elevation of the Colosseum at Rome.
“And when do I come again?” asked Nan.
“Eh? And do you wish to continue this course?”
“I truly believe I’d like to see if I have a talent for architecture. I’m awfully interested. It’s lots more entertaining than drawing butterflies and flowers. Can’t a woman be an architect?”
“Hoity-toity! what’s this?” asked the professor, and sat down again to stare at her.
“I really do like it, Professor,” repeated Nan.
And from that time there dated a friendship between, and companionship of, Nan Sherwood and Professor Krenner that really made a great difference in both their lives.