break from the room, the man suddenly wishing that the child could find
its chief relief in him.

"Yet I made him take the medicine," thinks the man, in terror of that
night.

The professor will take some little thing to eat--a glass of beer,
perhaps--but he must not stay.

They go below, where Davy has told the cook of the extraordinary
professor who can scarcely speak English. Davy has asked him if he
could spell Josephus. "After all," says Davy, "I'd be ashamed to play
so loud if I couldn't spell Josephus. It hurt my head."

"Yes, you darlint," says the cook; "here's some ice cream. I don't
want you to wait. Eat it now."

"I can't eat anything but medicine," says Davy, "and I have to eat that
or papa wouldn't love me. Do you think he loves me?"

"Ah, yes, darlint. Don't ye's be afraid of that. Thim as don't love
the likes of ye's is scarcer than hen's teeth."

"T-double-e-t-h," observes the scholarly Davy.

"My! my!" cries the cook.

At the table, the professor will not care for any beer. Well, let it
be a little. Well, another glass. Yes, the glasses are not large.
Another? Yes.