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Chapter I. The Blurring Of Lines

           "Ithoughtyouwerequeerfromthefirst."

           "Yourhabits,sir,havenotmendedinthesethreeyears,"saidSummerlee,shakinghishead."Ialsodidnotfailtoobserveyourstrangemannerthemomentwemet.Youneednotwasteyoursympathy,LordJohn.Thesetearsarepurelyalcoholic.Themanhasbeendrinking.Bytheway,LordJohn,Icalledyouacoxcombjustnow,whichwasperhapsundulysevere.Butthewordremindsmeofasmallaccomplishment,trivialbutamusing,whichIusedtopossess.Youknowmeastheausteremanofscience.CanyoubelievethatIoncehadawell-deservedreputationinseveralnurseriesasafarmyardimitator?PerhapsIcanhelpyoutopassthetimeinapleasantway.Woulditamuseyoutohearmecrowlikeacock?"

           "No,sir,"saidLordJohn,whowasstillgreatlyoffended,"itwouldnotamuseme."

           "Myimitationofthecluckinghenwhohadjustlaidaneggwasalsoconsideredratherabovetheaverage.MightIventure?"

           "No,sir,no—certainlynot."

           Butinspiteofthisearnestprohibition,ProfessorSummerleelaiddownhispipeandfortherestofourjourneyheentertained—orfailedtoentertain—usbyasuccessionofbirdandanimalcrieswhichseemedsoabsurdthatmytearsweresuddenlychangedintoboisterouslaughter,whichmusthavebecomequitehystericalasIsatoppositethisgraveProfessorandsawhim—orratherheardhim—inthecharacteroftheuproariousroosterorthepuppywhosetailhadbeentroddenupon.OnceLordJohnpassedacrosshisnewspaper,uponthemarginofwhichhehadwritteninpencil,"Poordevil!Madasahatter.

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