“I have thought of laboratory work in connection with psychology,” said Lewes, still puzzled.
“I thought I remembered your saying something of the kind,” murmured Challis absently. “We are going to have more rain. It will be a late spring this year.”
“Had the question any bearing on our engagement of this morning?” Lewes was a little anxious, uncertain whether this inquiry as to his future had not some particular significance; a hint, perhaps, that his services would not be required much longer.
“Yes; I think it had,” said Challis. “I saw the governess cart go up the road a few minutes since.”
“I suppose the boy will be here in a quarter of an hour?” said Lewes by way of keeping up the conversation. He was puzzled; he did not know Challis in this mood. He did not conceive it possible that Challis could be nervous about the arrival of so insignificant a person as this Stott child.
“It’s all very ridiculous,” broke out Challis suddenly; and he turned away from the window, and joined Lewes by the fire. “Don’t you think so?”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you, sir.”
Challis laughed. “I’m not surprised,” he said; “I was a trifle inconsecutive. But I wish you were more interested in this child, Lewes. The thought of him engrosses me, and yet I don’t want to meet him. I should be relieved to hear that he wasn’t coming. Surely you, as a student of psychology ...” he broke off with a lift of his heavy shoulders.
“Oh! Yes! I am interested, certainly, as you say, as a student of psychology. We ought to take some measurements. The configuration of the skull is not abnormal otherwise than in its relation to the development of the rest of his body, but ...” Lewes meandered off into somewhat abstruse speculation with regard to the significance of craniology.
Challis nodded his head and murmured: “Quite, quite,” occasionally. He seemed glad that Lewes should continue to talk.