“I think we all need all the good luck we can get,” replied Emory, guardedly.
“Tesso is late,” remarked Uncle Peabody, opportunely, looking at his watch. “He will be greatly interested in the reports of these American experiments.”
Another half-hour passed by before the professor from Turin arrived. Helen strolled about the garden with Emory, pointing out the unusual flowers and shrubs, while Uncle Peabody collected his letters and arranged them in proper sequence. Annetta brought out the tea-table and laid everything in readiness, returning to the house just in time to usher the dignified figure into the hall.
“I hope I have not disarranged your plans,” apologized the professor, pleased with the cordiality of his reception. “I had a little experience which delayed me.”
“My uncle is so anxious to tell you of some good tidings, professor, that he has almost become impatient,” replied Helen, smiling. “You observe that I say ‘almost,’ do you not?”
“It would never do for him to become impatient, would it?” replied Tesso, turning to his friend—“you the disciple of Cornaro and the example to us all! But I myself am weaker—I admit my impatience.”
Uncle Peabody and Emory drew up the chairs, and Tesso seated himself next to Mr. Cartwright with obvious expectancy.
“You recall the results of my own experiments in attempting to show increased muscular and mental endurance as a result of eating in right manner what the appetite selects instead of eating in wrong manner what the doctors advise?” began Uncle Peabody.
“And incidentally demonstrating that the existing standard of minimum nutrition for man was three times too large?” queried Tesso.
“Yes. You all were very generous, but I know you attributed the results in a measure to my own personal peculiarities.”