“Then why do they have it in the list of elective studies?” asked Nan, as much puzzled as her chum.
“Why, you see,” said the perfectly serious professor, “Dr. Prescott insists upon each instructor having two courses—one study that is compulsory, and another that is elective. I am not a versatile man. I might have suggested instruction on the key-bugle, which I play to the annoyance of my neighbors; but there is already a musical instructor at the Hall.
“I might have suggested a class in the ancient and honorable calling of cobbling (which is the handmaid of Philosophy, I believe, for I have found most cobblers to be philosophers) as I often repair my own shoes,” pursued Professor Krenner, with the utmost gravity. “But there is a lady at the Hall who will teach you to do very ladylike tricks in burnt leather, and the two arts might conflict.
“So, being naturally of a slothful disposition, and being quite sure that no young girl would care for architecture, which is my hobby, I suggested my elective study. I think that Dr. Prescott considers it a joke.”
Bess gazed at him with a puzzled expression of countenance. She did not exactly understand. But Nan appreciated his dry humor, and her own eyes danced.
“I believe I should like to take architectural drawing,” she said demurely.
“Oh, Nan!” gasped Bess.
The professor’s eyes twinkled behind the great, round spectacles. “I shall have to guard against that,” he said. “No young lady at the Hall has ever yet expressed such a desire—not even your friend, Miss Riggs.”
“Oh! you don’t mean to say that that horrid girl who treated Nan so, goes to Lakeview Hall?” Bess cried out.
“She doesn’t, really, does she, sir?” asked Nan, anxiously.