Tutors' Lane

by W. S. Lewis

  VII

  In the morning Nancy's thoughts flew to the proposed social work. Whaton earth had she got herself into! Swept away, as usual, she hadconfided her plans for a life of service to a man she barely knew, onehour after she had decided to leave him alone! Well, there was nothingto do now but make the best of it. Their talk had, as a matter of fact,shown that she had been a little silly about the charade. He hadunsuspected depth. That had been made clear by his conversation abouteducation, and it was unlikely that anyone who felt as strongly as hedid could be wayward in a charade. So it might turn out all right, afterall, and she had better set about getting the workers.

  Mary, to her surprise, was a disappointment. It seemed that with hermusic, which she was studying seriously this year, with weekly trips toBoston for a lesson, she had no time. Others of her friends to whom shehad naturally turned were unavailable for one reason or another, and theaffair began to look discouraging. On the fourth day, however, whilecalling upon the Misses Forbes, she got an unsolicited recruit. Her mindbeing full of the idea, she was talking about it before she knew it;and to her astonishment, and a little to her dismay, Miss Jennie offeredher services. "I cannot," she said, "talk to the operatives about theirbodies, and, accordingly, it won't be necessary for me to attend thephysiological lectures, but I think I can be of use later on. When wewent to Miss Northcote's School we learned to weave mats and paint onchina, and I can give instructions in them. In their turn they willinstruct me, for I shall learn much about Housing Conditions and have anopportunity to examine at first hand the various industrial problems ofthe day. Who knows? when we are through, I may prepare a paper for the_Nation_." Her sisters indicated their disapproval by rockinghopelessly.

  Tom, too, had met with difficulties. Upon thinking the matter over hehad little doubt as to its outcome. Enough of his Ephesus life remainedwith him to tell him that factory hands are not to be reached bylectures from academic ladies and gentlemen. He blushed, too, forcertain sentiments he had expressed upon the essence of education, butthey might be credited to the delicate frenzy of the dance and hisunexpected reconciliation. It was, of course, all Nancy. He could notimagine himself proceeding upon such an affair with anyone else. Still,he found it necessary to placate his conscience for the time taken fromthe study of Beowulf which he was then making for his Ph.D. "All workand no play makes Jack a dull boy" seemed, after a somewhat desperatesearch, as sound a principle as any; and, furthermore, he would savetime from his exercise by running around the cemetery--the classicrunning course--instead of playing squash at the Country Club. So thatproblem was settled.

  The young physiologist, however, upon whom he had been counting haddeveloped appendicitis, and he didn't feel that he knew any of the othermen in the department well enough to take their time for such aspeculative cause. Then he met old Professor Sprig, a Star man of '65,who had been a celebrated physiologist in his time and who was now analmost equally celebrated eccentric. Having complained of the presentstatus of the department and explained his problem, Tom was invited bythe old gentleman to bring Nancy to his rooms. "You know, I suppose,where I live?" he asked with a crafty smile.

  Tom did know where he lived. The old four-story frame building inWhitmanville, the Diamond Building, the highest in the town, had beenmade famous by his residence. The top floor was said to be his apartmentand it was commonly supposed that he kept chickens in it. There weresome dreadful stories about midnight dissections, but cooler headsaffirmed that if there were any chickens there at all, they were thereas the companions and not as the helpless victims of a debauched oldage. And now the two social workers were invited into these mysteriousprecincts! The news might swell the roster to disconcertingproportions. They should have to proceed with caution.

  "All we want, sir, is a most elementary discussion. Just enough so wecan give the men and women in the Mills some simple facts aboutthemselves. Then, with that as a starter, we can build up moreintelligently."

  "I shall be glad to give you whatever you want. Shall we say Tuesdaynext? At eight o'clock? Don't dress, you know. Just come as you are.This is business," and with another of his sly smiles he moved on downthe street.

  When Tom called for Nancy on Tuesday night he found her equipped withpad and pencils.

  "Henry doesn't think too highly of this performance, I may say," shesaid, smiling up at him, "but we simply couldn't have let people knowwhere we are going. They would have swamped the whole thing. I must sayI am a little afraid." She slipped her arm through his, and they hurriedon down Division Street, which connects Tutors' Lane with Whitmanville."If he only has chickens, I won't mind, but if he has bats I shall hateit. I confess I'm a perfect fool about bats. They're loathsome. Whatthey really are, are hairy rats with wings like web feet, and they havethe most _loathsome_ mouths."

  Tom was curiously excited. He felt buoyed up. It was like water-wings,he told himself. And when he tried afterwards to think of the things hehad said, he could remember nothing except that he had quoted Alice'sperplexity about bats eating cats when she was falling down the well,and that they had both laughed immoderately.

  The Diamond Building, on their arrival, presented a somewhat portentouspicture. A Five, Ten, and Fifteen Cent store dimly showed forth stringsof penny postal cards and piles of dusty candy in its macabre windows.The second floor was throbbing with the rich life of a poolhall, and asthey passed the Christian Science rooms on the third floor they carriedwith them the strains of a therapeutic hymn. And then, at last, theywere before a door which bore over its bell the pencilled legend, H.Sprig.

  They were admitted by a flunkey named Herbert. Herbert's period ofusefulness in the laboratory had terminated with that of the Professor,and the latter had engaged him as a body servant, not only because ofhis proved capacity and loyalty, but because of the unusual shape of hishead, upon which the Professor found it restful to gaze. He was black,was Herbert, and was at present clothed in gorgeous blue livery withgold buttons. He bowed the guests inside and led them through a narrowhallway to a comfortable room of generous size, the Professor's library.At one end was a long table, and behind it was Mr. Sprig, clad in amorning coat. Behind him on the walls were half a dozen diagrams of Manthe Master, designed to gratify students whose thirst was for theanatomical. Before Mr. Sprig were a pitcher of iced water, a tumbler,and a sheaf of notes.

  Mr. Sprig rose as Nancy and Tom entered and bowed pleasantly, at thesame time waving them to two chairs placed close together before histable. When they had seated themselves he bowed again, and, without moreado, began an address. He spoke in a low, deep, if somewhat quaveryvoice, and with an elegant ease of manner. It was his purpose, heexplained, to give them an elementary course in the primary systems ofthe body, together with two supplementary lectures on hygiene, in orderthat they might go out and instruct the poor in the proper care of theirbodies. Tonight he would have only time for the respiratory andcirculatory systems, next time would come the digestive and excretorytracts, and he hoped to finish in six lectures. It was, of course, abroad subject and much water had passed under the bridge since his day,but with their generous help he hoped that the thing might be done.

  He talked for fifty minutes, that being a college period, and at itsclose he bowed again. He then came from behind the table and shook themwarmly by the hand. "You will forgive a foolish old man, I know. You seeI haven't given a lecture since I resigned eight years ago, and Ithought I'd like to do it up brown. And now, Herbert"--for the elaborateold man had appeared at the close of the lecture--"please bring in thethings."

  The "things" were some little round cup cakes, three wine glasses, anda large bottle of sauterne.

  "The summer we graduated," Mr. Sprig went on, "my classmate Curtis and Iwent abroad. We took a walking trip south of Bordeaux, and on that walkwe discovered this wine. I have kept in touch with the people who makeit ever since, and although I shall never get any more, I shall haveenough to last me. You must try a glass, Miss Whitman. I assure you itwill improve all of your s
ystems!"

  When Nancy first looked at her watch it was nearly eleven.

  "You mustn't go, of course, until you have seen the chickens," said Mr.Sprig.

  The chickens! Under the charm of the softly lighted room, the oldgentleman's quiet flow of half-whimsical, half-serious reminiscence,they had been carried back to the rosy days that were before theirbirth. Now they dreaded lest their host should show himself a littlemad, after all.

  He lit a bedside candle, and at his request they followed him out upon asun parlour. And there, indeed, was a wire-enclosed runaway with awhite-washed shelf at the end supporting four sleeping forms. The candlemoved nearer, and there they were--beyond any possible doubt, PlymouthRocks.

  To see them at night was a nice problem, he explained. Being a littlelight-minded about sunshine, it seemed that they were unable todiscriminate between heaven's high lamp and the electric one on theporch, and would dutifully arise when either appeared. Once down fromtheir perch, they would refuse to return until the sun was removed; andwhen it chanced to be the one on the porch and was switched off, theywere unable to return because their endowment of optic nerve was smalland their homing instinct, so strong in bees and eagles, smaller. Therewas created, accordingly, an _impasse_, but Mr. Sprig, who knew hishens, circumvented it. He lit a bedside candle which merely troubled hisfriends' sleep.

  "The one on the extreme left is Helen of Troy. She is a stunningcreature, as you can see. She produced an egg for me only this morning.Next is Malvolio. I confess I am partial to him. Then comes Little Nell.She is extremely demure and inclined to be sentimental. And last isCarol Kennicott, who chatters so much I am afraid I shall shortly haveto pop her into a pie." He gazed at her affectionately. "Well," hecontinued as he led the way back into his library, "I have now shown youmy treasures. They, of course, seem a little crazy to you, and I hopeyour lives will end so fully that you won't have to fall back on them.But in case either of you should find yourself old and foolish andalone, I can recommend them as pleasant and amiable companions. You willfind them curiously simple--they are not offended if you don't call uponthem or write them letters,--and then from time to time they yield up toyou the shining miracle of an egg, for which they ask no recompense; andwhen they come to lay down their lives they do it with a gesture andmake the day a feast."

  He was standing before the dying fire, surrounded by its genial light,as his guests withdrew. Near him, just touched by the firelight, werethe crumbs of their supper and the stately old bottle which had givenits bouquet to the room. Old Herbert, moving out of the shadownoiselessly and pleasantly, bowed them out, and as the vision faded oneof the guests, at least, pictured the four friends on the sun porchreadjusting themselves, after their fitful fever, to the gentle life oftheir home.