“Bard, yes, Bard. What else?” he mumbled, as he wrote it down.
“Mauney.”
“Mauney, yes; Mauney Bard! I see!” he looked up to subject Mauney to a severe scrutiny, during which he was absent-mindedly biting the nail of his little finger.
“And now, tell me, Mauney Bard,” he said suddenly, aiming his plump forefinger at his new pupil, “Tell me, as well as you can—that’s to say offhandedly—tell me exactly why you elected the straight history course?”
As he waited for an answer, he looked frowningly toward the window, rubbed his nose, and held his head like a musician preparing to judge the quality of a chord of music.
“I would say the reason is simple enough,” said Mauney.
“Good,” commended Tanner, hammering the desk with his fist: “Simple enough? Yes? Good. All right, Bard; explain that. Tell me exactly why you elected it?”
“Because,” said Mauney deliberately, “I’ve always wanted to understand the basic principles of human progress.”
Tanner, still frowning at the window, mumbled in an absent-minded tone: “‘Basic principles of human progress.’ Yes; basic principles.” Then, turning suddenly toward Mauney, he once more aimed his finger like a pistol at his face, while his voice came out with great clearness and deliberation: “Good for you. That’s good, Bard, very good. Now, you will consult your time-table to find out your classes, and, by the way, it’s a very small class this year.” He turned toward the young lady seated by the window.
“Lorna!” he said.