But on occasions even this enthusiast wearied of his hobby, and of the year’s routine.  A longing to see brother scientists of his own way of thinking would seize him, and he would abruptly depart for London, to occupy quiet lodgings, and indulge in intercourse with his fellow-men.  Braddock rarely gave early intimation of his urban nostalgia.  At breakfast he would suddenly announce that the fit took him to go to London, and he would drive to Jessum along with Cockatoo to catch the ten o’clock train to London.  Sometimes he sent the Kanaka back; at other times he would take him to town; but whether Cockatoo remained or departed, the museum was always locked up lest it should be profaned by the servants of the house.  As a matter of fact, Braddock need not have been afraid, for Lucy—­knowing her step-father’s whims and violent temper—­took care that the sanctity of the place should remain inviolate.

Sometimes the Professor came back in a couple of days; at times his absence would extend to a week; and on two or three occasions he remained absent for a fortnight.  But whenever he returned, he said very little about his doings to Lucy, perhaps deeming that dry scientific details would not appeal to a lively young lady.  As soon as he was established in his museum again, life at the Pyramids would resume its usual routine, until Braddock again felt the want of a change.  The wonder was, considering the nature of his work, and the closeness of his application, that he did not more often indulge in these Bohemian wanderings.

Lucy, therefore, was not astonished when, on the morning after her visit to Mrs. Jasher, the Professor announced in his usual abrupt way that he intended to go to London, but would leave Cockatoo in charge of his precious collection.  She was somewhat disturbed, however, as, wishing to forward the widow’s matrimonial aims, she had invited her to dinner for the ensuing night.  This she told her step-father, and, rather to her surprise, he expressed himself sorry that he could not remain.

“Mrs. Jasher,” said Braddock hastily, drinking his coffee, “is a very sensible woman, who knows when to be silent.”

“She is also a good housekeeper, I believe,” hinted Miss Kendal demurely.

“Eh, what?  Well?  Why do you say that?” snapped Braddock sharply.

Lucy fenced.

“Mrs. Jasher admires you, father.”

Braddock grunted, but did not seem displeased, since even a scientist possessing the usual vanity of the male is not inaccessible to flattery.

“Did Mrs. Jasher tell you this?” he inquired, smiling complacently.

“Not in so many words.  Still, I am a woman, and can guess how much another woman leaves unsaid.”  Lucy paused, then added significantly:  “I do not think that she is so very old, and you must admit that she is wonderfully well preserved.”

“Like a mummy,” remarked the Professor absently; then pushed back his chair to add briskly:  “What does all this mean, you minx?  I know that the woman is all right so far as a woman can be:  but her confounded age and her looks and her unexpressed admiration.  What are these to an old man like myself?”