"You are not engaged in any regular occupation now, I believe?" continued the professor.
"No, sir, I am not," answered Oscar, as soon as he could speak.
"Then I suggest that you keep yourself at liberty until you hear from some of us. I shall return to the city by the first train, and, as soon as I can see the committee, our secretary will drop you a line. I am confident that I can put you in the way of making a name and a living for yourself. Good-morning!"
The professor disappeared through the door, and Oscar, having seen him close the gate behind him, drew a long breath, thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and walked up and down the shop, thinking over what had transpired. He was so highly excited that he could not have kept still to save his life.
It hardly seemed possible that the art of taxidermy, which he had taken up simply as a recreation, should be the means of making him rich and famous, and he could not bring himself to believe that such was the fact.
There was one thing that stood in his way. Everybody who came in contact with his late visitor seemed to think that there was something wrong with him, and Oscar himself had seen and heard enough to prove that the professor was a very strange man.
Perhaps his name wasn't Potter, and perhaps, too, he had no connection whatever with the Yarmouth University.
"I'll not build any hopes upon it," said the boy, as these thoughts passed through his mind, "and neither will I say a word to mother when she comes home. She would be very much disappointed if it turned out to be a hoax, and I don't see how she can stand any more trouble. Sam will be around some time to-day, most likely, and I'll ask him what he thinks about it. He has good, sound sense, and, besides, he knows how to keep a secret."
Oscar picked up his broom again, but very soon found that he had lost interest in everything except Professor Potter and his astonishing proposition.
He could not keep his mind on anything else, nor could he calm his excitement; and believing that a brisk walk in the open air would be more agreeable than working in the dusty shop, he locked the door, picked up his wheelbarrow as he passed through the yard, and set out for Mr. Peck's boat-house, Bugle leading the way.