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g. And he's a science master--one of those Johnnies who ought to know the value of fresh air and ventilation."
Elsie, roused by the bump of the punt side against the bank, sat up and stared at the unpromising landing-place.
"Why don't you go farther along?" she asked. "You can't make tea here without--"
"Woman, have you no thought before food?" demanded her brother sternly. "Don't you thrill at the thought that you are anchored to the sacred terrain of the learned Professor Colson, doctor of science, bug expert, performer on the isobar and other musical instruments and--"
"Chap, you talk too much--and I should love a cup of tea."
"We'll have tea with the professor," said Chap firmly. "Having cut through the briars to his enchanted palace, we will be served in crystal cups while reclining on couches of lapis lazuli."
She frowned up at the dark and unpromising woods.
"Does he really live here?" she addressed Tim, and he nodded.
"He really lives here," he said; "at least, I think so; his driving directions were very explicit and I seem to remember that he said we might have some difficulty in finding the house--"
"He said, 'Keep on climbing until you come to the top,'" interrupted Chap.
"But how does he reach the house?" asked the puzzled girl.
"By aeroplane," said Chap, as he tied the punt to the thick root of a laurel bush. "Or maybe he comes on his magic carpet. Science masters carry a stock of 'em. Or perhaps he comes through a front gate from a prosaic road--there must be roads even in Berkshire."
Tim was laughing quietly. "It is the sort of crib old Colson would choose," he said. "You ought to meet him, Elsie. He is the queerest old bird. Why he teaches at all I don't know, because he has tons of money, and he really is something of a magician. I was on the science side at Mildram and it isn't his amazing gifts as a mathematician that are so astounding. The head told me that Colson is the greatest living astronomer. Of course t