his hands under his coat-tails. “Now, sir,” he said, glaring at the young man like a school-master—“what the deuce are you talking about? Out with it: no evasion.”
“Oh, hang it, Professor, don't jump down my throat, spurs and all,” said Random, rather annoyed by this dictatorial tone.
“I never wear spurs: go on, sir, and don't argue.”
Sir Frank could not help laughing, although he knew that it was useless to induce Braddock to be civil. Not that the Professor, meant to be rude, especially as he desired to conciliate Random. But long years of fighting with other scientists and of having his own scientific way had turned him into a kind of school-master, and every one knows that they are the most domineering of the human