until October that Galusha made up his mind. His decision was brought to
a focus by the help of Mrs. Worth Buckley. Mrs. Buckley's help had
not been solicited, but was volunteered, and, as a matter of fact, its
effect was the reverse of that which the lady intended. Nevertheless,
had it not been for Mrs. Buckley it is doubtful if Galusha would have
started for Wellmouth.

She came upon him first one brilliant afternoon when he was sitting upon
a rock, resting his weary legs--they wearied so easily nowadays--and
looking off at the mountain-side ablaze with autumn coloring. She
was large and commanding, and she spoke with a manner, a very decided
manner. She asked him if--he would pardon her for asking, wouldn't
he?--but had she, by any chance, the honor of addressing Doctor Bangs,
the Egyptologist. Oh, really? How very wonderful! She was quite certain
that it was he. She had heard him deliver a series of lectures--oh,
the most WONDERFUL things, they were, really--at the museum some
years before. She had been introduced to him at that time, but he had
forgotten her, of course. Quite natural that he should. "You meet so
many people, Doctor Bangs--or should I say 'Professor'?"

He hoped she would say neither. He had an odd prejudice of his own
against titles, and to be called "Mister" Bangs was the short road to
his favor. He tried to tell this woman so, but it was of no use. In
a little while he found it quite as useless to attempt telling her
anything. The simplest way, apparently, was silently and patiently to
endure while she talked--and talked--and talked.

Memories of her monologues, if they could have been taken in shorthand
from Galusha's mind, would have been merely a succession of "I" and
"I" and "I" and "Oh, do you really think so, Doctor Bangs?" and "Oh,