I grasped his hand as he escorted me to the door. I had spent the entire day with him and it was evening now, beautiful with the white light of the moon. Saxe. stepped out to inhale the fresh, balmy air, and greeted a man who was coming up the little gravel path, who informed him it was an indifferent night for observations.
The light from the door fell upon his features and I recognized Professor Saunders, the astronomer, whose lectures I had often listened to with the keenest interest. He greeted me, then murmured something, entered the house and rapidly vanished in the region of the attic. Saxe., anxious to join his friend, rather abruptly bade me good-night, however, reminding me I had been haphazard long enough. “Be decisive,” he murmured.
CHAPTER III.
I thought of Saxe. and his strange instrument, continually wondering what it was intended for, while my fingers twitched to handle it. The old glamour of Saxe.’s companionship was upon me, again was I ambitious, dauntless, scorning difficulties, confident I could accomplish what he, with all his superior knowledge, had failed to do—perfect and set in motion the machinery that he had nearly wasted his entire life upon.
Anxious to test my ability, positive of success, I lost no time in presenting myself to Saxe. early the next day.
He was hurried when admitting me and speeded down the hall, bidding me to follow.
“Frogs saute,” he explained, “and Saunders and Sheldon are here—know ’em?”
“Met Sheldon some time ago and Saunders last night,” I reminded him.
“So you did, so you did!” he agreed. “Well, you won’t disturb them; they’re at it, as usual.”
The two gentlemen were seated at a table engrossed with a chart between them and deep in discussion or, more correctly speaking, quarreling. They nodded impatiently as I entered and paid no attention whatever as I seated myself and tried to take a hand in the argument. I moved the chart to suit my convenience and then the gentlemen quit quarreling with each other to take sides against me, and I was soon bawling louder than either, my indignation roused to boiling point because they repeatedly yelled: “Hush up, boy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Saxe. howled for peace, and passed around something, the flavor of which inspired deep friendship and good fellowship, and amid the jollity he declared I complimented him, always turning up at meal time. I honestly enjoyed dining with the old boys. We sat in our shirt sleeves and conversed in comfort, time no object, and the jokes numerous, whose piquancy only a wit could appreciate.