“Yis?” inquired Flannery.  “Well, mebby ’tis so.  He would be what ye call one of thim specialists.  They do be doin’ that now, I hear, and ’tis probable th’ Frinchmin has fleas for his specialty.  ’Tis like this, mam:—­all professors is professors; then a bunch of professors separate off from the rest and be professors of insects; and then the professors of insects separate up, and one is professor of flies, and another one is professor of pinch-bugs, and another is professor of toads, and another is professor of lobsters, and so on until all the kinds of insects has each a professor to itself.  And them they call specialists, and each one knows more about his own kind of insect than any other man in th’ world knows.  So mebbe the Frinchmin is professor of fleas, as ye say.”

“I should think a grown man would want to be professor of something bigger than that,” said Mrs. Muldoon, “but there’s no accountin’ for tastes.”

“If ye understood, mam,” said Mike Flannery, “ye would not say that same, for to the flea professor th’ flea is as big as a house.  He studies him throo a telescope, Mrs. Muldoon, that magnifies th’ flea a million times.  Th’ flea professor will take a dog with a flea on him, mam, and look at th’ same with his telescope, and th’ flea will be ten times th’ size of th’ dog.”

“’Tis wonderful!” exclaimed Mrs. Muldoon.

“It is so!” agreed Mike Flannery.  “But ‘t is by magnifyin’ th’ flea that th’ professor is able t’ study so small an insect for years and years, discoverin’ new beauties every day.  One day he will be studyin’ th’ small toe of th’ flea’s left hind foot, and th’ next day he will be makin’ a map of it, and th’ next he will be takin’ a statute of it in plaster, an th’ next he will be photygraftin it, and th’ next he will be writin’ out all he has learned of it, and then he will be weeks and months correspondin’ with other flea professors in all parts of th’ worrld, seein’ how what he has learned about th’ little toe of th’ flea’s left hind foot agrees with what they have learned about it, and if they don’t all agree, he goes at it agin, and does it all over agin, and mebby he dies when he is ninety years old and has only got one leg of th’ flea studied out.  And then some other professor goes on where he left off, and takes up the next leg.”

“And do they get paid for it?” asked Mrs. Muldoon, with surprise.

“Sure, they do!” said Flannery.  “Good money, too.  A good specialist professor gits more than an ixpriss agent.  And ’t is right they sh’u’d,” he added generously, “for ‘t is by studyin’ th’ feet of fleas, and such, they learn about germs, and how t’ take out your appendix, and ’Is marriage a failure?’ and all that.”

“Ye dumbfounder me, Mike Flannery,” said Mrs. Muldoon.  “Ye should have been one of them professors yourself, what with all the knowledge ye have.  And ye think ‘t would be a good thing t’ let th’ little Frinchmin come and take a room?”