"He mistook you for Ida?" asked Toney.
"To be sure he did," said the Professor. "Mistook me for a young lady. Is it not a pretty piece of business for the founder of the sect of Funny Philosophers to have the imagination of one of his disciples clothing him in petticoats? Toney, tell me, candidly, do I look like Ida?"
"Not much, I must confess," said Toney, laughing. "But Ida's image is impressed on Tom's organ of vision, and when he looks at you the image aforesaid is dancing in the intervening space."
"And so he mistakes me for the young lady. Tom Seddon is getting to be really disagreeable," said the Professor. "During the day, when Ida is not present, he is as absent-minded as was ever old Sir Isaac Newton; and at night, as we occupy the same room in the hotel, I am annoyed by his somniloquism."
"What does he say?" asked Toney.
"I cannot comprehend his incoherent mutterings, but sometimes hear 'Ida, Ida,' articulated with tender emphasis. I do wish that Tom would get out of Doubting Castle."
"What sort of a place is that?" asked Toney.
"A place in which all young ladies compel their lovers to dwell for a period, either long or short, according to their whim or caprice. I have known some maidens, who looked as meek and gentle as the doves that cooed in the garden of Eden in the days of primeval innocence, exhibit as much cruelty to their captives as did Old Giant Despair to the poor Pilgrims who had fallen into his hands. Indeed, I have known some lovers held in Doubting Castle for years."
"Do you think that Tom's term of imprisonment will be of long duration?"
"I think not. Ida's uncle is opposed to Tom's suit, is he not?"