His face, too, had something of
the student in it, and this effect was increased by a pair of large
gold spectacles with double lenses. The man's contracted eyes gave
the youth the uncomfortable feeling of being microscopically
examined, and Ned was for a moment ill at ease. The manner of the
scrutiny was that of a scholar who had before him a strange new
specimen. Ned, still with hat in hand, felt more like a dead bug
than a very live boy. Then the white-mustached man smiled, took
off his heavy-lensed glasses, and stepped forward with his hand
extended.
"I am Major Honeywell," he began in a low voice, "formerly of the
regular army and later detailed on ethnological work for the
Government. You are--"
"Ned Napier," responded his youthful caller.
"You must take no offense if I am a little surprised," exclaimed
Major Honeywell; "I had supposed you would be older. Perhaps your
surprise came first on receiving my note?"
"It did," replied Ned; "I was surprised and so was my mother. But
she thought I ought to come, although we could not imagine what you
wanted.
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