The weather continued to be fine, and the day after Dora had been brought on board, she had recovered from the effects of fatigue and exposure and came on deck with a beautiful bloom on her cheeks. The deportment of the Professor was now strangely altered. He was no longer the man of wit and humor, and during the remainder of the voyage never uttered a joke. When the young maiden was on deck, he was constantly at her side, and when she retired to her state-room, he would sit for hours in a mood of mental abstraction.
"What is the matter with him?" said Tom to Toney, as, on a certain night, they were pacing to and fro on deck and puffing their cheroots. "Yonder he sits, gazing at the moon, and won't talk to anybody. What do you think he called me just now?"
"What?" asked Toney.
"He called me Miss Dora."
"Did he?" said Toney, laughing.
"He did, indeed."
"It was by way of retaliation," said Toney.
"Retaliation? How?"
"You used to call him Ida."
"When?"