Christopher resented the laughter: “Perhaps you are not willing to assist me in making my experiments?” he questioned angrily.
“Oh, yes; perfectly willing,” was the smiling answer.
“Now, look here! I wish to investigate this carefully, and I’m willing and able to pay your price; but I’ll not be ridiculed sir, I’m no boy, I’ll have you understand!”
“No, of course not,” answered the professor soothingly, he thought him a mild lunatic; really he seemed half insane; no matter what reply the professor made, he grew more wroth, until he, out of all patience, said angrily: “What is the matter with you? You act like a maniac!”
“Quick! Quick! Photograph me!” cried Christopher, with livid lips.
“Well, well!” exclaimed the professor in astonishment, as he hastily complied with the request; after which Christopher sank back, pale and trembling.
The professor looked at him admiringly: “How did you accomplish it?”
“Oh, I don’t know; I just let go of the strings;” smiling faintly.
Thus he went through the whole scale of emotions; he was taken while under the influence of anæsthetics; in a placid mood; in a moment of most uproarious hilarity; in the depths of despondency; in languishing amorousness; in fact, in all conceivable moods of the human mind. He seemed to possess the strange faculty of producing any desired emotion at will.
After he had exhausted all moods, he one day stood gazing meditatively, and rather sadly at the plates.