"I am a professor of science," said Cashel, in a low voice, looking
down at his left fist, which he was balancing in the air before him,
and stealthily hitting his bent knee as if it were another person's
face.

"Physical or moral science?" persisted Lydia.

"Physical science," said Cashel. "But there's more moral science in
it than people think."

"Yes," said Lydia, seriously. "Though I have no real knowledge of
physics, I can appreciate the truth of that. Perhaps all the science
that is not at bottom physical science is only pretentious
nescience. I have read much of physics, and have often been tempted
to learn something of them--to make the experiments with my own
hands--to furnish a laboratory--to wield the scalpel even. For, to
master science thoroughly, I believe one must take one's gloves off.
Is that your opinion?"

Cashel looked hard at her. "You never spoke a truer word," he said.
"But you can become a very respectable amateur by working with the
gloves."

"I never should. The many who believe they are the wiser for reading
accounts of experiments deceive themselves. It is as impossible to
learn science from theory as to gain wisdom from proverbs. Ah, it is
so easy to follow a line of argument, and so difficult to grasp the
facts that underlie it! Our popular lecturers on physics present us
with chains of deductions so highly polished that it is a luxury to