"Publish," I suggested.
"The very word!" he cried. "Doctor, I am going to give my discovery to the world—to the world, sir!—not merely for the edification of savants, but for the enlightenment of my fellow-men."
"By George!" I said, "that's what I call philanthropy, Mr. Percival."
"Well, sir," he replied, modestly, "all I ask—all I ask in return, sir, is that I may be permitted to spend the remainder of my days, rent free and bread free, in some hall of learning, that I may edit my books and devote myself to further research undismayed by the—the—"
"Wolf at the door," I suggested.
"Exactly," he replied. "That's all I ask."
"It is little enough," I remarked.
"Doctor," he said, solemnly, "it is enough, sir, for any learned man."
When I reached home with my unexpected guest, Dove and Letitia smilingly welcomed him; I say smilingly, for there was that about the little old gentleman which defied ill-humor. He seemed shy at first, as might be expected of a bachelor-Egyptologist, but the simple manners he encountered soon reassured him. I led him to our best front bedroom, where he stood, dazzled apparently by the whiteness and ruffles all about him, and could not be induced to set down his valise till he had spread a paper carefully upon the rug beneath it.
"Now, I guess I'll just wash up," he said, "if you'll permit me," looking doubtfully at the spotless towels and the china bowl decorated with roses, which he called a basin. I assured him that they were there to use.