Professor. Oh, very well. Thank you. Any letters? (Those also she deposits, in two heaps, the business ones opened, the private and personal untouched) When did these come?
Miss Tuckey. Most of them last night, sir, after you had gone to bed.
(The Professor, tentatively inspecting them, remembers that he must change his glasses again. The magnifying lens proves informative.)
Professor. Ah! here is one from Miss Elfrida, I see.
Miss Tuckey. (As she collects and removes the fragments of the Benger’s Food bowl) That only came this morning.
Professor. Wasn’t she to be back to-day?
Miss Tuckey. Yes. They are expecting her quite soon. About twelve, I believe. (The Professor looks at his watch, and then remembers that he has fault to find with the clock, and incidentally with her)
Professor. That clock is three quarters of a minute slow, Miss Tuckey. (Miss Tuckey at once goes to correct it) It should now be at four and a quarter minutes past. A clock that loses time is so disturbing—especially when it strikes. It puts me out of my stride for the rest of the day. (He begins looking at his correspondence) And now, if you will attend to me! (Miss Tuckey is already standing meekly to attention) You have your notebook?
Miss Tuckey. Yes, sir.
Professor. Take this, then! (He consults once more the letter which he has picked up from his opened correspondence)—“Mr. James Pomeroy.” (I think it is Pomeroy)—He writes on good note-paper with a crest; I suppose I must answer him. “Dear Sir”—Oh! while I think of it, make a note that the extra plates for the new edition of “Objective Science” have not come through as advised; and they must not go to press till I have passed them. What have you got?