CHAPTER III. OLD FRIENDS MEET
The professor set down his tumbler upon the zinc-rimmed counter. He was very little changed except that he had grown a shade stouter, and there was perhaps more color in his cheeks. He carried himself, too, like a man who believes in himself. In the small public-house he was, without doubt, an impressive figure.
“My friends,” he remarked, “our host's whiskey is good. At the same time, I must not forget—”
“You'll have one with me, Professor,” a youth at his elbow interrupted. “Two special whiskies, miss, if you please.”
The professor shrugged his shoulders—it was a gesture which he wished every one to understand. He was suffering now the penalty for a popularity which would not be denied!
“You are very kind, sir,” he said, “very kind, indeed. As I was about to say, I must not forget that in less than half an hour I am due upon the stage. It does not do to disappoint one's audience, sir. It is a poor place, this music-hall, but it is full, they tell me packed from floor to ceiling. At eight-thirty I must show myself.”
“A marvelous turn, too, Professor,” declared one of the young men by whom he was surrounded.
“I thank you, sir,” the professor replied, turning towards the speaker, glass in hand. “There have been others who have paid me a similar compliment; others, I may say, not unconnected with the aristocracy of your country—not unconnected either, I might add,” he went on, “with the very highest in the land, those who from their exalted position have never failed to shower favors upon the more fortunate sons of our profession. The science of which I am to some extent the pioneer—not a drop more, my young friend. Say, I'm in dead earnest this time! No more, indeed.”
The young man in knickerbockers who had just come in banged the head of his cane upon the counter.