"but as long as there's room
for his test-tubes, and his dinner's good, dad thinks it's all right for
a girl."

And, as if it was all right, she laughed--just in time for Randal
Bellamy to get full benefit of the pleasant sound.

"Laughing all alone?" he said.

"That's when the funny things happen," replied Amaryllis.

Bellamy looked down at her, as if asking a share in her merriment.

"After all, I don't know why I laughed," she said. "I was only thinking
it's five whole weeks since we came here, and----"

"And you want to go somewhere else?"

Amaryllis shook her head. "And it's gone like five days, I was going to
say."

She took her seat at the table and poured out his coffee. "I'm not going
to let you wait a moment for father this morning; it was two o'clock
when he went to bed."

"How do you know that, you bad girl?" said Bellamy.

"Because dad can't get out of the habit of putting his boots outside his
door," she replied. "And when he's pleased with his work, he throws 'em
out."

"I've heard them," he said, laughing. "But last night I was in bed
before twelve; I suppose he took advantage of that and sneaked back to
the laboratory again."

"But I thought," said Amaryllis, after a pause, "that Ambrotox was
finished and ready to make its bow to the public."

"God forbid!" said Bellamy, in a tone of such intensity that the girl
was astonished.

"But surely you've been helping him to finish it--you wanted it
finished," she exclaimed.

"Yes, but not published," said the man.

The girl's next eager question was cut short by the entrance of the
parlour-maid with the morning's letters; and after her came Theophilus
Caldegard.

His person was as unlike the popular conception of a man of science as
can well be imagined. His sturdy figure, thick white hair, and the ruddy
complexion of his face, where the benevolence of the mouth attracted
attention before the keenness of the eyes, suggested rather the country
gentleman than the man of genius whose discoveries might move a world.

He kissed his daughter, and, "Tea quick--the kettle's boiling, Amy," he
said. "Morning, Bellamy."

And, as Bellamy made no response, "First time I ever saw him absorbed by
a letter," he remarked:

"Best one I've had for six months," said Bellamy, looking up. "That
young brother of mine's coming down by the three-ten."

"Rolling down, you mean," said Caldegard.

"Can't roll any longer--covered with moss," retorted Bellamy