The great man looked at the girl who was but a child, but who seemed so little dismayed at hunting up a lodging place in a great city alone, and after dark. There was nothing bold in her manner, if there was perfect fearlessness—the fearlessness of innocent ignorance. Then his eyes fell down upon the little grandchild in his arms. “My dear young lady, you are too young to have done this thing alone, and I cannot let you go away to-night. You must remain with us.”
“Oh! sir, I did not dream of making myself such a trouble to you. I came only to find out for poor Melville if there was anything in his idea, and I knew nobody could tell me as well as you. I couldn’t bear to have him bothered by people who did not know exactly; it will be such a glorious thing for him if he is right, and he couldn’t bear suspense.”
The girl’s flattering candor was pleasant to the learned man, for there is no one so wise but that he likes appreciation; besides, the frank face pleased him in other ways, and he was minded to hear the history of the cottage she had recognized by its portrait on his walls.
He touched a button, and the servant who had treated Octave with so much contempt appeared. “Send away this young lady’s cab. She will pass the night here.”
Octave held out her purse, but the professor waived it aside. “You are my guest. If I mistake not, the most notable I have entertained for many a day.” The girl understood that he referred to Melville’s possible discovery, for the same eager light had come into the bright eyes of the scientist, and she felt no undue elation at his words. She, the messenger, was nothing to him but a messenger; and, with a funny little grimace at herself, she reflected that even in this most important transaction of her young life she was still “only Octave.”
“Why are you smiling, girl?” asked the grandchild, slipping her hand confidingly into the young visitor’s.
“At foolish thoughts, my dear.”
The professor roused himself. “Have you had your dinner, Miss—”
“Octave Pickel. No, sir; but that is of no consequence.”
“It should be of the highest consequence to a growing girl. Run, little one, and ask grandmother to have supper prepared for our guest. And Pickel, you said? The name commends itself to me. I am indebted to those of that name for many great kindnesses. It may not be the same family; yet you recognized the Erding cottage. Did you ever live at Munich?”