CHAPTER II.

SIGNS OF A THUNDER-SHOWER.


Before the delivery of the letter, a very pretty little ceremony took
place. The professor had stretched forth his hand to receive it, when,
by a sudden turn of the wrist and arm, the young lady whisked it out of
his reach and behind her back, and in place of it brought down her
fresh, sweet face with its fragrant mouth to within two inches of his
own wrinkled and bristly visage. A moment after, the ceremony was
completed, the letter delivered, and the postman, stepping over her
father's fallen slipper, leaned against the balcony-railing, and waited
for further developments.

The professor took his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket, placed them
carefully upon his strongly-marked nose, and scrutinized in turn the
direction, post-mark, and seal. With a sniff of surprise, he then tore
open the envelop, and became immediately absorbed in the contents of the
inclosure, indicating his progress by much pursing and biting of his
lips, wrinkling of his forehead, and drawing together of his heavy
eyebrows. Having at length reached the end of the last page, he turned
it sharply about, and went through it once more, with half-articulate
grunts of comment; and finally, folding the letter carefully up, and
replacing it in the torn envelop, he caught the spectacles off his
nose, and, with them in one hand and the paper in the other, fixed his
eyes upon the vacant spot at the summit of the hill.

His daughter meanwhile had taken off her brown straw-hat, and was using