Conduct of Professor Chadd
Colman), who was talking very quietly and clearly, yet with a nervous twitch, as it were, in his face. The other was our old friend listening with his old forbearing expression and owlish eyes, the strong sunlight gleaming on his glasses as the lamplight had gleamed the night before, when the boisterous Basil had rallied him on his studious decorum. But for one thing the figure of this morning might have been the identical figure of last night. That one thing was that while the face listened reposefully the legs were industriously dancing like the legs of a marionette. The neat flowers and the sunny glitter of the garden lent an indescribable sharpness and incredibility to the prodigy—the prodigy of the head of a hermit and the legs of a harlequin. For miracles should always happen in broad daylight. The night makes them credible and therefore commonplace.
The second sister had by this time entered the room and came somewhat drearily to the window.
"You know, Adelaide," she said, "that
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