Instead of that, he pulls himself together, and determines on
immediate action. To call upon this ward of his is a thing that must
be done sooner of later, then why not sooner? Why not at once? The
more unpleasant the duty, the more necessity to get it off one's
mind without delay.

He pulls the bell. The landlady appears again.

"I must go out," says the professor, staring a little helplessly at
her.

"An' a good thing too," says she. "A saint's day ye might call it,
wid the sun. An' where to, sir, dear? Not to thim rascally
sthudents, I do thrust?"

"No, Mrs. Mulcahy. I--I am going to see a young lady," says the
professor simply.

"The divil!" says Mrs. Mulcahy with a beaming smile. "Faix, that's
a turn the right way anyhow. But have ye thought o' yer clothes,
me dear?"

"Clothes?" repeats the professor vaguely.

"Arrah, wait," says she, and runs away lightly, in spite of her
fifty years and her too, too solid flesh, and presently returns with
the professor's best coat and a clothes brush that, from its
appearance, might reasonably be supposed to have been left behind by
Noah when he stepped out of the Ark. With this latter (having put
the coat on him) she proceeds to belabor the professor with great