still further paragraphs." The sharp line of demarcation which
Descartes drew between consciousness and the material world," whispered
Oscar with satisfaction, and knew that if Descartes were on the
examination paper he could start with this and go on for nearly twenty
lines before he would have to use any words of his own. As he
memorized, the chambermaid, who had come to do the bedrooms three times
already and had gone away again, now returned and no longer restrained
her indignation. "Get up Mr. Blake! " she vociferated to the sleeping
John; "you ought to be ashamed!" And she shook the bedstead. Thus John
had come to rise and discover Oscar. The patient tutor explained
himself as John listened in his pyjamas.

"Why, I'm sorry," said he, "but I don't believe they'll get back very
soon."

"They have gone away?" asked Oscar, sharply.

"Ah--yes," returned the reticent John. "An unexpected matter of
importance."

"But, my dear sir, those gentlemen know nothing! Philosophy 4 is
tomorrow, and they know nothing."

"They'll have to stand it, then," said John, with a grin.

"And my time. I am waiting here. I am engaged to teach them. I have
been waiting here since ten. They engaged me all day and this evening.

"I don't believe there's the slightest use in your waiting now, you
know. They'll probably let you know when they come back."