"Oh!" cried Sally, clapping her hands.
"Climb trees!" murmured the professor. "Why, there was one tree that I remember—"
He was interrupted, at this point, by a gentle knock at the door.
"That sounds like your mother's knock, Sally. Will you be kind enough to see?"
It was Mrs. Ladue. She had heard the unaccustomed sounds of merriment issuing from her husband's room and had come up—rather timidly, it must be confessed—to see what it was all about. If her heart was fluttering a little with symptoms of hope, as she came, it is not to be wondered at. There was another reason for her coming, although she was not conscious that it had weight with her.
She was half smiling as she entered; half smiling in a doubtful, hesitating sort of way, ready to let the smile develop in its own lovely manner or to check it and let it fade away, according to circumstances. Sally held tightly to her hand. Professor Ladue got upon his feet with more agility than would have been expected of him.
"Sally and I were having a session with my lizard," he said, "and were variously entertaining ourselves. I hope your head is better, Sarah."
Mrs. Ladue appeared to see some reason for letting her smile take its natural course. It was a very lovely smile, almost tender. Professor Ladue should have been a very proud and happy man that it was for him. There is no reason to think that he was.
"Thank you, Charlie," she replied. "It is all right, to-day. Won't you and Sally go on with your session and let me be a visitor? It must have been a very amusing session. I don't know when I have heard Sally laugh so much."
Sally clapped her hands again. "Oh, do," she said. "You were going to tell me about a tree, father. What about it?"