Everybody talked for a long while, since this was the last meeting for the year, and in spite of the earlier disagreement, which was, perhaps, more apparent than real, I remember the evening as one of especial illumination.
XIII
The Fountain of Youth
PROFESSOR Maturin’s study lamps were dimmed to the mellow glow that makes good talk. But his coffee and cigars were so worthy of the dinner we had just ended that we continued to smoke in silent content, until our host asked about the Vicar’s vacation.
“My plans are about as usual,” answered that worthy, naming his sea-shore place without enthusiasm.
“Mine, too, are about the same,” added Professor Maturin, naming his similar place, with a similar lack of interest.
The Physician hemmed severely and shifted in his chair. “Let us have it,” smiled Professor Maturin.
“Why will you act as though you were a hundred years old?” said he.
“Perhaps we feel so, sometimes,” replied Professor Maturin, while the Vicar nodded. “I fancy we would not ignore the fountain of youth, if we knew where it was.”
“It isn’t far,” retorted the Physician; “it’s merely open air and exercise.”
“I love open air,” said Professor Maturin, “but I hate what is usually called exercise.”