y, not
to say uncalled for.

"It's very strange," Von Barwig mused as he walked home. "She always
writes me a little note or leaves a message for me with one of the
servants, letting me know when to come for the next lesson."

Then he tried to assure himself that it was all right, that in the
stress of her social obligations she had forgotten.

"It's all right, Barwig, you make yourself miserable for nothing. You
expect too much. She is a petted, pampered, feted young lady of
fortune, the daughter of a Croesus; do you think she can always think
of you? Who are you that she should spare you so much time? You
overrate yourself; you--you idiot." People stopped in the streets to
look at the old man, who was walking so rapidly and gesticulating so
excitedly. When Von Barwig saw that he was observed, he calmed down.
"It's all right," he said. "To-morrow! I shall see her to-morrow!"

That evening at the Museum the night professor was strangely
inattentive. So deeply was he engrossed in his own thoughts that he
entirely forgot to play when Bosco was announced. He was rewarded by
that young lady with a look that was intended to annihilate him on the
spot, but the professor did not happen to be looking that way. "She
will be there to-morrow, or she will leave a message," he was saying to
himself.

"Bites their heads off; bites their heads off! Holy gee! Don't you
hear, profess'? It's her cue," came in thundering tones from the
throat of Mr. Al Costello. "What the hell's the matter, profess'?
Eats 'em alive, eats 'em alive!" he bawled, glaring at Von Barwig, and
then the night professor "found himself."

"Oh, my gracious," he thought as he banged on the piano--the chords
intended to depict musically the armless wonder's cannibalistic
proclivities. Bosco not only bit their heads off, she bit her lips
with vexation. It was too late; not a hand applauded when she came on
and the fat lady laughed aloud and fanned herself vigorously. She
hated Miss Bosco, who, being a headliner, had lorded it over the rest
of the unfortunate freaks in a manner deeply resented by them; so the
fat lady was glad to see Bosco's act fall down. The skeleton looked
wise and tapped his bony forehead with his bony fingers.

"Dippy," he articulated. "All musicians are dippy," he added.

The midgets looked serious, for they loved the professor. Tears
started in the little lady's eyes; she expected a storm, for she was
terribly afra