This done, they started back on the run to the professor's home, which
was about three miles off. On the way they dropped the red-faced
farmer and his hands, who clearly regarded the professor as some sort
of an amiable lunatic. But that worthy man, supremely happy despite
his wet clothes, was quite contented, and from time to time dipped
into his satchel, like a bookworm into a favorite volume, and drew out
a particularly valued specimen and admired it.

They soon reached his home, a pretty cottage on the outskirts of
Creston, a small town with elm-shaded streets. The professor invited
the boys to accompany him into the house. They were met in the passage
by a shrill-voiced woman who looked like the professor in petticoats.

"My sister, Miss Melissa," said the professor. "My dear, these
are----"

But he got no further in his introduction. Miss Melissa's hands went
up in the air and her voice rose in a shrill shriek as she saw her
brother's condition.

"Lan's sakes, Jerushah, where have you been?" she exclaimed.

"My dear, I must apologize for my condition," said the professor
mildly. "You see I----"

"You're dripping a puddle on my carpets. You're wringing wet through!"
shrilled Miss Melissa.

"Yes, you see, my dear, I've been down a well," explained the man of
science calmly.