aris,' I believe he subscribes himself."

James Thorpe spoke with a certain fortitude which Jacqueline was quick
to observe. He was a small, ugly man, with the scholar's stoop and the
scholar's near-sighted, peering gaze--the sort of man who has never been
really young and will never be old, looking at forty-five much as he
looked at twenty, a little grayer, perhaps, a little more
round-shouldered and ineffectual, but no more mature. His most marked
characteristic was a certain shy amiability, which endeared him to his
classes and his friends, even while it failed to command their respect.
Beneath this surface manner, however, were certain qualities which Kate
had had long occasion to test--dogged faithfulness, and an infinite
capacity for devotion. He was a very welcome guest at Storm, their one
connection with the outside world. Indeed, Kate's enemies were in the
habit of referring to James Thorpe as the third man whom she had ruined.
His learning and his abilities were wasted on the little college where
he chose to remain in order to be near her.

It was Jacqueline's custom to treat the Professor as if he were a cross
between a child and a pet dog,--a favorite pet dog. She murmured now,
sympathetically, "Doesn't it like its famous nephew, then? I wonder why?
He does look rather snippy. Is he so famous as all that? In the
magazines and everything?"

"Pooh! He would scorn the magazines. Novels are his vehicle. Large
novels, bound in purple Russia leather, my dear."

"But you've never sent us any of them."

"Heaven forbid!" murmured James Thorpe.

"Oho!" Jacqueline rounded her eyes. "They're that sort, are they?
Asterisks in the critical spots?"

The Professor blushed. "Well, er--no. No asterisks whatever, anywhere.
He belongs to what is called the er--decadent school."

Jacqueline gazed around him at the author with increased respect.
"What's his name, Goddy?"

"James Percival Channing. 'James' is for me. Calls himself 'J.
Percival,' however. He would."

"What?--not _the_ Channing? Why, Goddy, of course I've heard of him! I
had no idea you had any one belonging to you like that."

"I don't often brag of it," he murmured.

"But what is he doing here?"

"Getting next to Nature, I believe. Collecting specimens, dialect, local
color, animals in their habitat, you know. Take care, or he'll be
collecting you."

Her eyes twinkled. "Wouldn't it be gorgeous to be in a book! Professor
Jimsy, don't you think we