"
He got more uncomfortable than ever.
"Well," he said, "I dare say it was all an error, but anyway
I _did_ follow you. When you turned off into that lane, I kept
pretty close behind you. As it happens, I know this bit of
country, and there are very often some hoboes hanging around
the old quarry up that lane. They have a cave there where
they go into winter quarters. I was afraid some of them might
bother you. You could hardly have chosen a worse place to
camp out. By the bones of George Eliot, Pratt ought to have
warned you. I can't conceive why you didn't stop at his house
overnight anyway."
"If you must know, I got weary of hearing them sing your praises."
I could see that he was beginning to get nettled.
"I regret having alarmed you," he said. "I see that Peg has
dropped a shoe. If you'll let me fix it for you, after that
I won't bother you."
We turned back again along the road, and I noticed the right
side of his face for the first time. Under the ear was a
large livid bruise.
"That hobo, or whoever he was," I said, "must have been a
better fighter than Andrew. I see he landed on your cheek.
Are you always fighting?"
His annoyance disappeared. Apparently the Professor enjoyed
a fight almost as much as he did a good book.
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