rosy cheeks even rosier, and his mouth dropped a little at the corners, so that he looked like a baby suddenly grown old and rather cross about it.
Seeing St. Peter, the younger man turned abruptly into a side alley, but the Professor overtook him.
“Good morning, Langtry. These elms are becoming real trees at last. They’ve changed a good deal since we first came here.”
Doctor Langtry moved his rosy chin sidewise over his high double collar.
“Good morning, Doctor St. Peter. I really don’t remember much about the trees. They seem to be doing well now.”
St. Peter stepped abreast of him. “There have been many changes, Langtry, and not all of them are good. Don’t you notice a great difference in the student body as a whole, in the new crop that comes along every year now—how different they are from the ones of our early years here?”
The smooth chin turned again, and the other professor of European history blinked. “In just what respect?”
“Oh, in the all-embracing respect of quality! We have hosts of students, but they’re a common sort.”
“Perhaps. I can’t say I’ve noticed it.”
The air between the two colleagues was not thawing out any. A church-bell rang. Langtry started hopefully.
“You must excuse me, Doctor St. Peter, I am on my way to service.”
The Professor gave it up with a shrug.
“All right, all right, Langtry, as you will. Quelle folie! ”