to be that she's alive, and that she thinks everything Greek is alive,
too."

The professor nodded. "It's never occurred to her it's dead and done
with, these thousand years and more." He gave a little sigh. "Sometimes
I've wondered myself whether it is--quite as dead as it looks to you and
me," he added. "You know that grain--wheat or something--that Blackman
took from the Egyptian mummy he brought over last spring--"

"Yes, he planted it--"

"Exactly. And all summer he was tending a little patch of something
green up there in his back yard--as fresh as the eyes of Pharaoh's
daughter ever looked on--"

The instructor opened his eyes a little. This was a wild flight for the
head epigraphist.

"That's the way she made me feel--that little Harris girl," explained
the professor--"as if my mummy might spring up and blossom any day if I
didn't look out."

The instructor laughed out. "So you're going over with it?"

"A year--two years, maybe," said the professor. "I want to watch it
sprout."