“But how is this?  Venus should traverse the sun’s surface, not the earth’s.”

The arrow went home.  It earned sorrow to the breast of every apostle of learning there, for none could deny that this was a formidable criticism.  But tranquilly the venerable Duke crossed his limbs behind his ears and said: 

“My friend has touched the marrow of our mighty discovery.  Yes—­all that have lived before us thought a transit of Venus consisted of a flight across the sun’s face; they thought it, they maintained it, they honestly believed it, simple hearts, and were justified in it by the limitations of their knowledge; but to us has been granted the inestimable boon of proving that the transit occurs across the earth’s face, for we have seen it!”

The assembled wisdom sat in speechless adoration of this imperial intellect.  All doubts had instantly departed, like night before the lightning.

The Tumble-Bug had just intruded, unnoticed.  He now came reeling forward among the scholars, familiarly slapping first one and then another on the shoulder, saying “Nice (’ic) nice old boy!” and smiling a smile of elaborate content.  Arrived at a good position for speaking, he put his left arm akimbo with his knuckles planted in his hip just under the edge of his cut-away coat, bent his right leg, placing his toe on the ground and resting his heel with easy grace against his left shin, puffed out his aldermanic stomach, opened his lips, leaned his right elbow on Inspector Lizard’s shoulder, and—­

But the shoulder was indignantly withdrawn and the hard-handed son of toil went to earth.  He floundered a bit, but came up smiling, arranged his attitude with the same careful detail as before, only choosing Professor Dogtick’s shoulder for a support, opened his lips and—­

Went to earth again.  He presently scrambled up once more, still smiling, made a loose effort to brush the dust off his coat and legs, but a smart pass of his hand missed entirely, and the force of the unchecked impulse stewed him suddenly around, twisted his legs together, and projected him, limber and sprawling, into the lap of the Lord Longlegs.  Two or three scholars sprang forward, flung the low creature head over heels into a corner, and reinstated the patrician, smoothing his ruffled dignity with many soothing and regretful speeches.  Professor Bull Frog roared out: 

“No more of this, sirrah Tumble-Bug!  Say your say and then get you about your business with speed!  Quick—­what is your errand?  Come move off a trifle; you smell like a stable; what have you been at?”

“Please (’ic!) please your worship I chanced to light upon a find.  But no m(e-uck!) matter ’bout that.  There’s b(’ic !) been another find which—­beg pardon, your honors, what was that th(’ic!) thing that ripped by here first?”

“It was the Vernal Equinox.”

“Inf(’ic!)fernal equinox.  ’At’s all right.  D(’ic !) Dunno him.  What’s other one?”