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kind. He had never forgotten that the little girl was to
be a woman, and he had never forgotten that this tall, lithe creature, the
present Marjory, was a woman. He had been entranced and confident or
entranced and apprehensive according' to the time. A man focussed
upon astronomy, the pig market or social progression, may nevertheless
have a secondary mind which hovers like a spirit over his dahlia tubers
and dreams upon the mystery of their slow and tender revelations. The
professor's secondary mind had dwelt always with his daughter and
watched with a faith and delight the changing to a woman of a certain
fat and mumbling babe. However, he now saw this machine, this self-
sustaining, self-operative love, which had run with the ease of a clock,
suddenly crumble to ashes and leave the mind of a great scholar staring
at a calamity. " Rufus Coleman," he repeated, stunned. Here was his
daughter, very obviously desirous of marrying Rufus Coleman. "
Marjory," he cried in amazement and fear, "what possesses, you?
Marry Rufus Colman?"

The girl seemed to feel a strong sense of relief at his prompt
recognition of a fact. Being freed from the necessity of making a flat
declaration, she simply hung her head and blushed impressively. A
hush fell upon them. The professor stared long at his daugh. ter. The
shadow of unhappiness deepened upon his face. " Marjory, Marjory,"
he murmured at last. He had tramped heroically upon his panic and
devoted his strength to bringing thought into some kind of attitude
toward this terrible fact. " I am-I am surprised," he began. Fixing her
then with a stern eye, he asked: "Why do you wish to marry this man?
You, with your opportunities of meeting persons of intelligence. And
you want to marry-" His voice grew tragic. "You want to marry the
Sunday editor of the New York Eclipse."
" It is not so very terrible, is it?" said Marjory sullenly.
"Wait a moment; don't talk," cried the professor. He arose and walked
nervously to and fro, his hands flying in the air. He was very red behind
the ears as when in the Classroom some student offended him. " A
gambler, a sporter of fine clothes, an expert on champagne, a polite
loafer, a witness knave who edits the Sunday edition of a great outrage
upon our sensibilities. You want to marry him, this man? Marjory, you
are insane. This fraud who asserts that his work is intelligent, this fool
comes here to my house and-"
He became aware that his daughter was regarding him coldly. "I
thought we had best have all this part of it over at once," she remarked.
He confronted her in a new kind of surprise. The little keen- eyed
professor was at this time imperial, on the verge of a majestic outburst.
" Be still," he said. "Don't be clever with your father. Don't be a dodger.
Or, if you are, don't speak of it to me. I suppose this fine young man
expects to see me personally ? "
" He was coming to-morrow," replied Marjory. She began to weep. "
He was coming to-morrow."
" Um," said the professor. He continued his pacing while Marjory wept
with her head bowed to the arm of the chair. His brow made the three

dark vertical crevices well known to his students. Some. times he
glowered murderously at the photographs of ancient temples which
adorned the walls. "My poor child," he said once, as he paused near her,
" to think I never knew you were a fool. I have been deluding myself. It
has been my fault as much as it has been yours. I will not readily
forgive myself."
The girl raised her face and looked at him. Finally, resolved to
disregard the dishevelment wrought by tears, she presented a desperate
front with her wet eyes and flushed cheeks. Her hair was disarrayed. "I
don't see why you can call me a fool," she said. The pause before this
sentence had been so portentous of a wild and rebellious speech that the
professor almost laughed now. But still the father for the first time
knew that he was being un-dauntedly faced by his child in his own
library, in the presence Of 372 pages of the book that was to be his
masterpiece. At the back of his mind he felt a great awe as if his own
youthful spirit had come from the past and challenged him with a
glance. For a moment he was almost a defeated man. He dropped into a
chair. " Does your mother know of this " " he asked mournfully.
"Yes," replied the girl. "She knows. She has been trying to make me
give up Rufus."
"Rufus," cried the