it," remarked Bertie, feeling that the subject was too important to be hastily discussed.
"Take a seat, boy;" and the Professor waved his hand vaguely, as if he did not know much about any chair but his own old one, with the stuffing bursting out, and ink spots everywhere.
As all the chairs had books and papers piled up in them, Bertie, with great presence of mind, sat down upon an immense dictionary that lay near by, and with a hand on either knee, thus briefly explained himself:
"My mamma said that you were very wise, and could read seven langwitches, so I thought you would please tell me what Cocky Twitters says."
"Is Twitters a bird or a boy?" asked the Professor, as if bewildered by what seemed a very simple affair to innocent Bertie.
At this question, the boy burst forth into an eager recital of his acquaintance with the sparrows, giving a little bounce on the fat dictionary now and then when he got excited, while his rosy face shone with an eagerness that was irresistible.
The Professor listened as if to a language which he had almost forgotten, while the ghost of a smile began to flicker over his lips, and peer out from be-
