here, father," she said. "You would certainly get lost, and then we
would have to hunt for you. It has happened so before, you know."

"That was very different," said the Professor. "A man uses all his
powers of concentration at times, and if it has happened that I have
occasionally been so intent on my studies of Warsaw's past history that
I have for the time forgotten my surroundings, it is scarcely to be
wondered at. The present occasion is different. You will need a man,
with a man's wisdom, and a man's ability to act quickly. I must go; I
am ready."

Warren, knowing his father's stubbornness, hesitated. Catching his
sister's eye, she shook her head slightly. Professor Morris was
scrambling to his feet, still clasping his book.

Warren led his father around the narrow aisle that ran between the
great machines, until they were alone. Then he spoke.

"Father," he said, "you cannot go. Today has made a man of me. I am
sorry, father, but we children are the ones who are always the victims
of your forgetfulness, and we have suffered many times before today.
This is the worst of all. Perhaps we shall never see our little Elinor
again; and I am the one who promised mother when she died that I would
always look out for her. It is my fault that she is lost. I should
have known better than to have left her with you, but I meant to see
the others safely here, and get back before you started.

"I know you, father; you mean to do the right thing by us always, but I
certainly don't know what would happen if we did not look out for you
as well as ourselves." His voice trembled. "I know this does not