“So you can watch for prowlers,” she joked. “Some other folks might sneak up on the porch and listen in.”
“I’m all but stage struck,” panted Nancy, trying to force the little kicked-up curls around her ears back into place. “And girls, take your places!” she admonished. “Here comes—the—talent! Mr. Sanders and Sibyl!”
It really was taking on the look of some sort of entertainment,—for as Mr. Sanders and his daughter arrived there was a general presentation all around by Mrs. Brandon, while the girls, feeling very much like ushers at a school entertainment, stood with backs to the windows, just as they always did at school affairs.
The preliminary formalities over, Mr. Sanders was rather humorously conducted to the “platform.” This pleased Mr. Townsend “most to death” and he was heard to chuckle that “the old fire-house as town-hall had never held a better meeting.”
“I’ll not keep you in suspense, my friends,” began Mr. Sanders, without so much as clearing his throat, “but I’ll just introduce myself to those who don’t happen to know me. I’m Edwin Sanders of Eastern College, professor of science there.” There was a murmur through the room at that announcement.
“Professor!” was the surprised word it conveyed.
“And I came here to experiment,” the gentleman continued in a pleasantly matter of fact voice. “I found this little house had a direct air shaft, it runs from this room at that old fireplace down to the cellar, and out through an old-fashioned flue-door, you know the kind.”
“That’s a relic on this place,” spoke up Mr. Elmer Townsend. “It was built in here by a Dutch man from Holland—”
“Yes, and it’s a good one,” agreed Mr. Sanders. “Well, you see, my friends,” he continued, “I had to experiment on an extremely delicate little instrument,” he was all professor now, “so, when I found the exact conditions that I required here, I made an offer to the owner, Mr. Townsend.”
There was much shifting around and significant scraping of chairs at this point, but the speaker was in no way disturbed.