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Few have the courage and the enthusiasm to follow each footstep of the tiny ant at his complex labours, few are the Hubers that dwell among us; but to us all is given the love of that knowledge which opens our eyes to a few of the mysteries that lie thickly on our path, in the formation of the gravel upon which we tread, the clouds that grandly glide above us, and the leaves that gather upon the trees.
They had been able to do it, however, better than she would have believed possible. Mr. Ross was with him most of the time when she was not, and had frequently been forced to intercept some caller who was close to an innocent remark about Mrs. Hubers being over at the university.
In the horror, the rage and the grief which swept over him then, Beason rose to the heights of a human being, never to be quite without humanship again. When he came back that fall, Professor Hastings was quick to sense the change. Beason was given a place in Dr. Hubers' old laboratory, as one of Mr. Willard's assistants.
Why hadn't he examined them; or better still, one of the best oculists in the city was right there in the building why hadn't he made Karl go in to see him? It was criminal for a man like that to neglect his eyes! He was near the Hubers now; he had an impulse to run over and make sure that everything was all right. He slowed up the machine and looked at his watch.
Then Dr. George Lane spoke with the authority in him vested. "It certainly can not," he said, with an icy decisiveness. "But why not?" pursued Parkman, innocently. "Oh, now, don't misunderstand me, Professor. I didn't for a minute expect that you were to give any of your valuable time to Mrs. Hubers. Hastings is the fellow I'd like her turned over to.
He was not impenetrable to graciousness, however, for within five minutes he had told her that he was born in southern Indiana, that he lived in Minneapolis now, and that he had come to Chicago to get some work with Dr. Hubers.
Hubers, in spite of his I may say gifts, in some directions, is a little lacking in that broad culture, that finer quality of universal scholarship which should dominate the ideal university man of to-day." Dr. Parkman was smiling in a knowing way to himself. "I see what you mean, Professor, though I would put it a little differently.
Dr. Hubers had turned his chair away from Beason, and with closed eyes was facing the light from without. There was a long pause. Beason waited patiently, supposing the man to be thinking what to say about so great a difficulty. "As I understand it," he said, turning around at last, "it's like this.
"But see here, Dr. Hubers, a nice way you have of shirking your domestic duties! Who is going to help me settle this famous house Georgia tells about?" "I'll do it at night," he protested eagerly. "I'll work every night until the house is spick and span." Ernestine sighed. "I have a sad feeling that our house never will be spick and span. But we'll have some fun," eagerly "fixing it up."
That first morning, after he had been in there about an hour, he came out to Professor Hastings, who chanced to be alone. "I don't know whether I want to stay in there or not," the boy jerked out. He told him that Dr. Hubers would like to have him there. "You know he liked you," he said simply. Beason sat a long time pondering.
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