"There be many kinds of professors," said Mike.

"Sure!" agreed Mrs. Muldoon. "This wan is a professor of fleas."

Mike Flannery grinned silently at his plate.

"I have heard of thim, too!" he said. "But 'tis of insects they be
professors, and not of one kind of insects alone, Mrs. Muldoon, mam. Ye
have mistook th' understandin' of what he was sayin'."

"I beg pardon to ye, Mr. Flannery," said Mrs. Muldoon, with some spirit,
"but 'tis not mistook I am. Fleas th' professor said, and no mistake at
all."

"Yis?" inquired Flannery. "Well, mebby 'tis so. He would be what ye call
one of thim specialists. They do be doin' that now, I hear, and 'tis
probable th' Frinchmin has fleas for his specialty. 'Tis like this,
mam:--all professors is professors; then a bunch of professors separate
off from the rest and be professors of insects; and then the professors
of insects separate up, and one is professor of flies, and another one
is professor of pinch-bugs, and another is professor of toads, and
another is professor of lobsters, and so on until all the kinds of
insects has each a professor to itself. And them they call specialists,
and each one knows more about his own kind of insect than any other man
in th' world knows. So mebbe the Frinchmin is professor of fleas, as ye
say."

"I should think a grown man would want to be professor of something
bigger than that," said Mrs. Muldoon, "but there's no accountin' for
tastes."