CHAPTER IV. PROF. POPPENDORF'S LECTURE.
We all sat at supper on Thursday evening. There was a general air of expectation. It was on this evening that Prof. Poppendorf was to give his lecture. We all gazed at him with more than ordinary interest. The old Professor, gray and grim-visaged, sat more than usually erect, and his manner and bearing were marked by unusual dignity. He felt himself to be the hero of the hour.
I have neglected to say that Mrs. Wyman had been transferred to the seat adjoining mine. As she could not do without masculine attention I suspect that this arrangement was prompted by herself. Henceforth I was favored with the greater part of her conversation.
"I am quite looking forward to Prof. Poppendorf's lecture!" she said. "You are going, are you not?"
"I think so, but I can't say I am looking forward to it. I fancy it will be dry and difficult to understand."
"You think he is a learned man, do you not?"
"Very probably—in certain directions."
"Dr. Fenwick, I am going to ask a favor of you."