“And when we get our motor boat here,” added Jerry, as he looked toward the lake, “we will have _some_ times--believe me!”
“This is my residence,” put in the professor, indicating a small, red, brick building covered with ivy, as the boys could see in the glare of the automobile lamps. “Not all of the faculty have separate dwellings, but my zoological collections are so large that I needed plenty of room, so I was assigned to this house. It is very comfortable.”
“Where can we leave the auto?” asked Jerry.
“Oh, there is a garage on the premises, though I have no car. You may keep yours there if you like.”
For the time being they left the machine in the road, and proceeded up the gravel walk. Jerry noticed that the professor seemed to be hobbling in a peculiar manner.
“Did you hurt your feet in the swamp?” the tall lad asked.
“Hurt my feet? No, not that I know of. Ah--I see! Bless my soul! I’ve forgotten to put on my shoes that I took off to dry. I was wondering what hurt me.”
Jerry had hard work to keep from roaring with laughter. For the professor, in his socks, was walking over the sharp gravel, carrying his shoes and overshoes in one hand, and his butterfly net in the other. His face was a picture as he looked down at his feet in the illumination of the incandescent lamp on his front porch.
“Bless my soul!” he murmured again. “I am getting very forgetful, I’m afraid.”
“He’s not getting it--he’s _got_ it!” murmured Bob.
“Come in, boys, come in!” went on the professor, as he stepped off the gravel to the softer grass. “We’ll have a nice supper and a long talk.”
“It’s the supper he’s thinking of, not the talk,” said Ned to Jerry.
Professor Snodgrass had said his was a roomy house, and so it was as regards the house itself. But there was not much room in it, as the boys soon saw, for even the hall was filled with boxes, cases and other receptacles for holding what Ned, Bob and Jerry rightly guessed to be specimens of bugs, butterflies and other objects dear to the heart of the enthusiastic scientist.
“Make yourselves right at home, boys,” urged the professor, as they went in. He put away his butterfly net and the specimen box he carried over his shoulder, and then called:
“Yes, yes! What is it?” asked a voice from the kitchen.