“Mr and Mrs Chumley are bound on the same errand as you are—a trip through the country here.”
“Yes,” said the gentleman; “we thought—”
“Hush, Charley! don’t,” interrupted the lady; “let me speak. Are you Professor Preston?”
“My name is Preston,” said the professor, bowing.
“Glad to meet you. Mr Chumley and I are going to do Turkey this year. Mr Thompson here said that you and your party were going to travel. He had had letters of advice. We are going to start directly and go through the mountains; I suppose you will do the same.”
“No,” said the professor calmly; “we are going to take steamer round to one of the southern ports and start from there.”
“Oh, I say, what a pity!” said the little gentleman, rolling his head about in his stiff collar, where it looked something like a ball in a cup. “We might have helped one another and been company.”
“I wish you would not interfere so, Charley,” cried the lady. “You know what I said.”
“All right, Agnes,” said the little gentleman dolefully. “Are you people staying at Morris’s?”
“Yes,” said the professor.