"What's that?" asked Bess, with growing curiosity.
"Professor Krenner," repeated Nan.
"Why--ee!" squealed Bess, suddenly.
She opened her hand-bag, which was quite commodious, and began frantically to dig into its contents. A dollar bill, two lozenges, a handkerchief, part of a paper of chewing gum, an elastic band, a receipt for "freckle balm," a carved horsechestnut that her brother Billy had given her for a keepsake at parting, two bits of silk she had tried to match and could not, a tiny piece of sealing-wax, a much-creased letter (the last Nan had written her from Pine Camp), a funny little carved piece of ivory with a toothpick inside, a silver thimble (for Bess was sometimes domestic), a pair of cuticle scissors in a case, a visiting card, a strip of torn lace (likewise saved to "match"), a big, pearl button off her coat, a safety pin, and a molasses "kiss," fortunately wrapped in waxed paper, _fell to the floor_.
Nan patiently picked up the scattered possessions of her chum. There were other things in the bag, as Bess, with a squeal of satisfaction, proved by producing the folded announcement of Lakeview Hall.
"Goodness gracious, Bess!" sighed her friend. "How will you ever get all these things back into that bag?"
"Oh, tumble 'em in," said the careless Bess. "There must be room for them, or they would never have got in there in the first place. But listen here! I thought I remembered the name. Your Professor Krenner is on the staff of the school."
"What!"
"Yes. He teaches higher mathematics and architectural drawing.
'Architectural drawing'! What girl wants to take that? Of course, the mathematics is compulsory, but the drawing is elective. Dear me! he's a sour looking apple."
"Not when you get close to him," Nan said quickly. "He has kind eyes."
"Humph!" Bess said again.
The man occupying the seat directly ahead of the two girls left at the very next station. Immediately Professor Krenner, who seemed to be much interested in Nan and Bess, crossed the aisle with his bag and sat down in the empty seat.
"Well, Miss," he said to Nan, his eyelids wrinkling at the corners as though a smile lurked behind the shell-bowed spectacles, "I see you have not allowed that little contretemps to blast all the pleasure of your journey. Are you and your friend going to school?"
"Yes, sir. This is my chum, Elizabeth Harley, Professor Krenner," Nan said.
"We are going to Lakeview Hall," Bess put in.
"Indeed?"
Bess showed him the printed circular sent out by Dr. Beulah Prescott.
"We know all about you, sir," she said boldly.
"Do you?" he returned, with a rather grim smile about his wide mouth.
"Then you know much more than I know myself, and I hope some day when we are better acquainted that you will explain to me, my dear, this complex personality that is known as Alpheus Krenner."
Bess flushed a little; but Nan chuckled. She liked this odd, ugly man, with his querulous voice and dry way of speaking. The twinkling eyes took the rough edge off much that he said.
"So you are two of the new girls I shall meet in my mathematics classes this year," he proceeded. "Do you both know your multiplication tables?"
"Yes, sir," said Nan demurely, while Bess looked rather indignant. "And we have been a little farther, too, in arithmetic. But how about the drawing, sir? Don't you expect to meet us in those classes?"
"No," replied Professor Krenner, soberly. "No girl cares for such instruction."
"No?" cried Bess, becoming interested.
"I have never had a single pupil in architectural drawing at Lakeview Hall," admitted the gentleman.
"Then why do they have it in the list of elective studies?" asked Nan, as much puzzled as her chum.
"Why, you see," said the perfectly serious professor, "Dr. Prescott insists upon each instructor having two courses--one study that is compulsory, and another that is elective. I am not a versatile man. I might have suggested instruction on the key-bugle, which I play to the annoyance of my neighbors; but there is already a musical instructor at the Hall.
"I might have suggested a class in the ancient and honorable calling of cobbling (which is the handmaid of Philosophy, I believe, for I have found most cobblers to be philosophers) as I often repair my own shoes,"
pursued Professor Krenner, with the utmost gravity. "But there is a lady at the Hall who will teach you to do very ladylike tricks in burnt leather, and the two arts might conflict.
"So, being naturally of a slothful disposition, and being quite sure that no young girl would care for architecture, which is my hobby, I suggested my elective study. I think that Dr. Prescott considers it a joke."
Bess gazed at him with a puzzled expression of countenance. She did not exactly understand. But Nan appreciated his dry humor, and her own eyes danced.
"I believe I should like to take architectural drawing," she said demurely.
"Oh, Nan!" gasped Bess.
The professor's eyes twinkled behind the great, round spectacles. "I shall have to guard against that," he said. "No young lady at the Hall has ever yet expressed such a desire--not even your friend, Miss Riggs."
"Oh! you don't mean to say that that horrid girl who treated Nan so, goes to Lakeview Hall?" Bess cried out.
"She doesn't, really, does she, sir?" asked Nan, anxiously.
"Linda Riggs? Oh, yes. Didn't you know that?"
"Oh, dear, me," sighed Nan.
"Well!" cried Bess. "Who is she?"
"It is no breach of confidence on my part," replied the dry professor, "for she explains the fact to everybody, if I tell you that she is the daughter of Mr. Henry W. Riggs, the railroad magnate."
"Then she must be very rich," almost whispered Bess.
"Her father is," Professor Krenner said briefly.
Bess was deeply impressed, it was evident. But Nan already dreaded the shadow of Linda Riggs' presence in her school life.
CHAPTER IV
LUCK AND PLUCK
Nan found Professor Krenner a most amusing companion. She was eager to hear all she could from him regarding the school to which she and Bess Harley were bound.
The several male instructors at Lakeview Hall did not reside there, but lived near by in the village of Freeling. That is, the other gentlemen of Dr. Prescott's staff did so. Professor Krenner, who was unmarried, lived in a cabin he had built under the bluff on the lake shore.
"I am not far from the old boathouse, which is quite a famous place, by the way, as you will find when you get to the Hall. I am not troubled much with visitors because of my proximity to the boathouse. That is taboo with most of the young ladies."