"You may hand in your resignation this evening!" cried Professor
Smawl, in hollow tones of passion.

I passed her the pancakes with a cheerful smile, and flippantly
pressed the hand next me. Unexpectedly it proved to be William's
sticky fist, and Dorothy and I laughed until her tears ran into
Professor Smawl's coffee-cup--an accident which kindled her wrath to
red heat, and she requested my resignation five times during the
evening.

The next day it rained again, more or less. Professor Smawl complained
of the cooking, demanded my resignation, and finally marched out to
explore, lugging the reluctant William with her. Dorothy and I sat
down behind the largest tree we could find.

I don't remember what we were saying when a peculiar sound interrupted
us, and we listened earnestly.

It was like a bell in the woods, ding-dong! ding-dong! ding-dong!--a
low, mellow, golden harmony, coming nearer, then stopping.

I clasped Dorothy in my arms in my excitement.

"It is the note of the dingue!" I whispered, "and that explains its
name, handed down from remote ages along with the names of the
behemoth and the coney. It was because of its bell-like cry that it
was named! Darling!" I cried, forgetting our short acquaintance, "we
have made a discovery that the whole world will ring with!"