SCENE:--_You are looking into the study of a Scientist--a large
room lined with books and specimen cases. At the back are two
upright windows, through which one sees a green bowery garden,
suggestive of quiet and seclusion. In one window stands a case
of stuffed birds, in the other a microscope. Near the center
of the room is a ponderous writing-table, above which hangs
an adjustable light, presided over by a large green shade.
Adjoining the writing-table is a smaller one, on which stands
a typewriter. All about the room, on tables and systematically
arranged, and suggestive of the strict order imposed by a
meticulous mind. There is one door to right, another to left,
the latter leading to an inner chamber. On the writing-table
lie papers and a portable speaking-tube. A telephone, a
waste-paper basket, and a revolving book-stand are within
easy reach of the_ PROFESSOR’S _chair, while behind it is a
screen partly covering the door leading to the inner chamber.
On the opposite side, between the other door and the window,
stands a large chest. It is morning, and through half-lowered
green blinds sunlight streams over the replete and comfortable
interior, touching to brightness the polished metal of the
microscope, and the plumage of the stuffed birds._
_At the small table, on a chair less comfortable than the one
at the writing-desk sits an old gentleman in an affluent
dressing-gown of deep rich tones, dividing his attention
between a bowl of “Benger’s Food” and the typewriter, at
which he clicks with portentous gravity and occasional pauses
in the fingering. He is evidently inexpert, perhaps through
short-sightedness; but the typewriter helps him to feel, even
in his study, that his words are destined for print and the
laying-down of the scientific law for the generations to come
after._
_The clock on the chimney-piece, a skeleton of severe
design, with the workings of its metal bowels immodestly
exposed, strikes eleven. This seems to be a signal to a mind
methodically trained. The_ PROFESSOR _consults his watch,
starts, looks reproachfully at the clock, then quits the
typewriter, picks up his bowl of Benger, and spooning from it
on the way goes to the speaking-tube, which having unstopped,
he breathes into. The exertion sets him coughing; but he does
this, like most other things, patiently and methodically.
After listening at the tube he speaks down it, and you hear a
bisected conversation._
PROFESSOR BRAINTREE. Is that you, Miss Tuckey?--Yes, I’m ready for
you--I’m ready, I say--if you will, please. Yes. (_He starts to put on
the stopper again; then, as an after-thought_)--Oh! Miss Tuckey--Are
you there?--Tut! Tut! Why does the woman hurry so? (HE _gets up
a little testily to remove his Benger bowl to a side-table, and
progressing with very short steps places it unsecurely on a projecting
book whence it falls and breaks_. HE _accepts the fact philosophically
so far as infirmity will allow; but there is a gentle querulousness
in his tone as he says--_) There, there! Oh dear!--(_And leaving the
fragments to lie, returns to his place. There he stands for a moment,
and looking back reproachfully, removes from his eyes the highly
magnifying reading-glasses which were the cause of the mishaps. He
replaces them by another pair which permit a wider range of vision.
Through these he is able to contemplate the entrance of_ MISS TUCKEY,
_a subdued machine of a woman who accepts, without kick of any kind,
the mould she has been poured into.)_
MISS TUCKEY. Good-morning, Sir.
(_Like a well-fed fish catching at a fly from mere habit, the_
PROFESSOR _engulfs and returns the salutation by an inaudible
movement of the lips_.)
PROFESSOR. Miss Tuckey, there is something broken over there, will
you please see it removed? And will you kindly make a note to write
to Messrs. Spink and Wedge, and say that these new glasses don’t
suit me--I find them very trying to the--(_About to say “temper,” he
substitutes_)--to the eyes. And I must ask you to fetch those proofs
which came yesterday. I tried to catch you just now, but you had gone.
(_In this statement there is a note of rebuke for a too
precipitate obedience to summons. But by the foresight of_ MISS
TUCKEY, _the proofs are there; she deposits them in front of
him._)
PROFESSOR. Oh, very well. Thank you. Any letters? (_Those also she
deposits, in two heaps, the business ones opened, the private and
personal untouched_) When did these come?
MISS TUCKEY. Most of them last night, sir, after you had gone to bed.
(_The_ PROFESSOR, _tentatively inspecting them, remembers that
he must change his glasses again. The magnifying lens proves
informative._)
PROFESSOR. Ah! here is one from Miss Elfrida, I see.
MISS TUCKEY. (_As she collects and removes the fragments of the
Benger’s Food bowl_) That only came this morning.
PROFESSOR. Wasn’t she to be back to-day?
MISS TUCKEY. Yes. They are expecting her quite soon. About twelve, I
believe. (_The_ PROFESSOR _looks at his watch, and then remembers that
he has fault to find with the clock, and incidentally with her_)
PROFESSOR. That clock is three quarters of a minute slow, Miss
Tuckey. (MISS TUCKEY _at once goes to correct it_) It should now be
at four and a quarter minutes past. A clock that loses time is so
disturbing--especially when it strikes. It puts me out of my stride
for the rest of the day. (HE _begins looking at his correspondence_)
And now, if you will attend to _me_! (MISS TUCKEY _is already standing
meekly to attention_) You have your notebook?
MISS TUCKEY. Yes, sir.
PROFESSOR. Take this, then! (HE _consults once more the letter which he
has picked up from his opened correspondence_)--“Mr. James Pomeroy.” (I
_think_ it is Pomeroy)--He writes on good note-paper with a crest; I
suppose I must answer him. “Dear Sir”--Oh! while I think of it, make a
note that the extra plates for the new edition of “Objective Science”
have not come through as advised; and they must not go to press till I
have passed them. What have you got?
MISS TUCKEY. “Mr. James Pomeroy, Dear Sir.”
PROFESSOR. No, better make it “Sir.” These parasitic correspondents
ought not to be encouraged. “I beg to acknowledge receipt”--no, “I
_have_ to acknowledge”--_have_--“the receipt of your letter”--date so
and so. “With the proposition therein set forth, I cannot find myself
in agreement. The limits of sensory receptivity are patent to every
scientist.”
MISS TUCKEY. The limits of what?--I beg pardon.
PROFESSOR. “Sen-sory re-ceptivity”--in other words, the receptivity of
the senses. “That fact, however, does not provide any legitimate ground
for a belief in those magical or supernatural occurrences through
which, as I apprehend, you seek to counter-balance the deductions of
science. I find no reason to doubt that however much still lies beyond
the apprehension of our senses, it must all nevertheless be within the
range of a scientific explanation. I am, Sir, yours faithfully”--(_He
takes up another letter_) Oh, that is from Messrs. Moody & Prose.
Just say “received,” and have made a note. This is to take the chair
at the International Science Conference for the discussion on the
“Homology of the Invertebrates.” Say I accept the honor and am their
obedient servant--That is, no. That is “no”--(_He hands letter_)
That impertinence you need not answer--And now, take this--“Mrs.
Daphnephoria Brown--the Seminary, Brunswickville, Connecticut”--“My
Dear Madam, Your very flattering proposal to arrange a compendium from
my various studies in Objective Science, entitled ‘Sufficient unto
the Day,’ and intended to provide a basis for the accurate biological
training of the very young, gives gratifying evidence of the interest
you take in and the value which you attach to my literary labors. I
am inclined, however, to think that the terminological exactitude so
necessary to scientific statement could not be accommodated to the
range of the child-mind without a certain damage to the content”--Of
course, that means to the scientific content, not to the child’s mind.
No, no, don’t take that! That was only commentary--“Should I, on
later consideration, see any possible adjustment of my works to your
proposed scheme I shall not fail to communicate with you further in
the matter. I am, dear Madam, yours very truly”--That you can destroy,
and the address you need not keep. (HE _hands over the letter to_
MISS TUCKEY) And I think that is all--Oh, will you fetch me the file
of Professor Lake Jones’ articles on the “Rudiments of Corpuscular
Gravity” which appeared in last year’s “Science Journal.” You will
find it in the Press Bureau, I think, under “R.” (MISS TUCKEY _goes to
look for the file in the small inner chamber, from which, as she opens
the door, comes a brighter light of day than enters the study through
the tempering green blinds_) And now for Elfrida. (_He opens letter_)
Well, well, well! What is she sending me this botanical specimen for,
I wonder? It looks like a leaf of the Hornbean--Carpinus Betulus, if I
am not mistaken. (_He examines the leaf, then lays it down and returns
to the letter_) Dear me! The child has such a hand-writing that I can’t
read a word of it. Miss Tuckey, your eyes are better than mine, will
you kindly read me this letter?
(MISS TUCKEY _has returned with the required file. She puts it
down and takes up the letter._)