Part 3 (1/2)

”What's that?” asked Bess, with growing curiosity.

”Professor Krenner,” repeated Nan.

”Why--ee!” squealed Bess, suddenly.

She opened her hand-bag, which was quite commodious, and began frantically to dig into its contents. A dollar bill, two lozenges, a handkerchief, part of a paper of chewing gum, an elastic band, a receipt for ”freckle balm,” a carved horsechestnut that her brother Billy had given her for a keepsake at parting, two bits of silk she had tried to match and could not, a tiny piece of sealing-wax, a much-creased letter (the last Nan had written her from Pine Camp), a funny little carved piece of ivory with a toothpick inside, a silver thimble (for Bess was sometimes domestic), a pair of cuticle scissors in a case, a visiting card, a strip of torn lace (likewise saved to ”match”), a big, pearl b.u.t.ton off her coat, a safety pin, and a mola.s.ses ”kiss,” fortunately wrapped in waxed paper, _fell to the floor_.

Nan patiently picked up the scattered possessions of her chum. There were other things in the bag, as Bess, with a squeal of satisfaction, proved by producing the folded announcement of Lakeview Hall.

”Goodness gracious, Bess!” sighed her friend. ”How will you ever get all these things back into that bag?”

”Oh, tumble 'em in,” said the careless Bess. ”There must be room for them, or they would never have got in there in the first place. But listen here! I thought I remembered the name. Your Professor Krenner is on the staff of the school.”

”What!”

”Yes. He teaches higher mathematics and architectural drawing.

'Architectural drawing'! What girl wants to take that? Of course, the mathematics is compulsory, but the drawing is elective. Dear me! he's a sour looking apple.”

”Not when you get close to him,” Nan said quickly. ”He has kind eyes.”

”Humph!” Bess said again.

The man occupying the seat directly ahead of the two girls left at the very next station. Immediately Professor Krenner, who seemed to be much interested in Nan and Bess, crossed the aisle with his bag and sat down in the empty seat.

”Well, Miss,” he said to Nan, his eyelids wrinkling at the corners as though a smile lurked behind the sh.e.l.l-bowed spectacles, ”I see you have not allowed that little contretemps to blast all the pleasure of your journey. Are you and your friend going to school?”

”Yes, sir. This is my chum, Elizabeth Harley, Professor Krenner,” Nan said.

”We are going to Lakeview Hall,” Bess put in.

”Indeed?”

Bess showed him the printed circular sent out by Dr. Beulah Prescott.

”We know all about you, sir,” she said boldly.

”Do you?” he returned, with a rather grim smile about his wide mouth.

”Then you know much more than I know myself, and I hope some day when we are better acquainted that you will explain to me, my dear, this complex personality that is known as Alpheus Krenner.”

Bess flushed a little; but Nan chuckled. She liked this odd, ugly man, with his querulous voice and dry way of speaking. The twinkling eyes took the rough edge off much that he said.

”So you are two of the new girls I shall meet in my mathematics cla.s.ses this year,” he proceeded. ”Do you both know your multiplication tables?”

”Yes, sir,” said Nan demurely, while Bess looked rather indignant. ”And we have been a little farther, too, in arithmetic. But how about the drawing, sir? Don't you expect to meet us in those cla.s.ses?”

”No,” replied Professor Krenner, soberly. ”No girl cares for such instruction.”

”No?” cried Bess, becoming interested.