numeral. He was watching the death-throes of a slug, with scientific indifference, as his son-in-law approached him, carrying a wide-brimmed hat.
“Professor Parkhurst, your daughter desires you to put on your hat. You forgot it.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you!”
“I should like the opportunity of a few words with you, sir, if you can spare the time.”
“Well, I cannot. My time is very precious. If you desire to walk along with me while I destroy these slugs, I will listen to what you say.”
He pursued his course, and Jarvis, perforce, followed.
“I have been in your house for a week, now, Professor Parkhurst, and I have merely encountered you at meals.”
“Often enough,” said the Professor, making a sudden turn that almost upset Jarvis. “I go fifty steps up, and fifty steps back,” he explained, and Jarvis stared at him open-mouthed.
“You count your steps?” he repeated.
“Certainly, no matter what I do, I count. When I eat, when I sleep, walk, talk, think, I always count.”
“How awful! A human metronome. I must
