The professor of psychology turned as pale as the paper on which he was about to write his next famous and inexplicable lecture. He pushed by Kathleen and sprang for his hat.
But the child's mother had already run out, bareheaded, into the street, calling the dog as she ran. Nora, the cook, left the dinner to burn, and followed. Kathleen softly shut the nursery door, "So she won't hear," and, sobbing, crept downstairs. The family gathered as if under the black wing of an unspeakable tragedy. They scoured the premises and the street, while the professor rang in the police call. But Loveliness was not to be found.
The carrier came by, on his way home after his day's work was over.
"Great Scott!" he cried. "I'd rather have lost a month's pay. Does she know?"
The newsboy trotted up, and stopped whistling.
"Hully gee!" he said. "What'll the little gell dew?"
The popular cabman came by; he was driving the president, who let down the window and asked what had happened. The driver uttered a mild and academic oath.
"Me 'n' my horse, we're at your disposal as soon as me and the president have got to faculty meeting."
But the president of the University of St. George put his long legs out of the carriage, and bowed the professor into it.
"The cab is at your service now," he said anxiously, "and so am I. They can get along without us for a while, to-night. Anything that I can do to help you, Professor Premice, in this—real calamity—How does the child bear it?"