Yussuf the Guide: The Mountain Bandits; Strange Adventure in Asia Minor

Mr Burne blew a perfectly triumphal blast with his pocket-handkerchief, took out his snuff-box, put it back, jumped up, and, crossing to where the professor was standing, shook his hand very warmly, and without a word, while Mrs Dunn wiped her eyes upon her very stiff watered silk apron, but found the result so unsatisfactory that she smoothed it down, and hunted out a pocket-handkerchief from somewhere among the folds of her dress and polished her eyes dry. Then she seemed as if she put a sob in that piece of white cambric, and wrapped it up carefully, just as if it were something solid, doubling the handkerchief over and over and putting it in her pocket before going up to the professor and kissing his hand. “Ha!” said the latter, smiling at first one and then the other. “This is very good of you. I don’t often find people treat me so kindly as this. You see, I am such an abstracted, dreamy man. I devote myself so much to my studies that I think of nothing else. My friends have given me up, and—and I’m afraid they laugh at me. I am writing, you see, a great work upon the old Roman occupation of—. Dear me! I’m wandering off again. Mrs Dunn, can I not see my old friend’s son?” “To be sure you can, sir. Pray, come,” cried the old lady; and, leading the way, she ushered the two visitors out into the hall, the professor following last, consequent upon having gone back to fetch the two big folio volumes; but recollecting himself, and colouring like an ingenuous girl, he took them back, and laid them upon the dining-room table. Mrs Dunn paused at the drawing-room door and held up a finger. “Please, be very quiet with him, gentlemen,” she said. “The poor boy is very weak, and you must not stay long.” The lawyer nodded shortly, the professor bent his head in acquiescence, and the old lady opened the drawing-room door.