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The Hermit brought forward the bench for his visitors to sit upon, and then, procuring a cup, he offered each a drink of water.

The Professor, hugging one knee with interlocked fingers, seemed anxious to open a conversation.

“Pardon me, sir, but do I understand that you are a clergyman; that is to say, some sort of a teacher of religion?”

“I belong to a religious order. I am a recluse.”

“Roman Catholic, I presume?” said the Professor, glancing at the crucifix.

“Your meaning is not wholly clear to me,” replied the Hermit.

“What are your views? Do you lean to Calvinism, or do you think the Arminians, upon the whole, have the best of the argument?”

“The gentleman does not understand you, pa,” said Miss Baffin.

“Never mind, then; we will not press it. But I should like very much if you would tell us something about this place; this country around here,” said the Professor, waving his hand towards the door.

“Let me ask first of the misadventure which cast you unwillingly upon our shores?” said the Hermit.