The professor, who was famous for the wool-gathering of his wits, returned home, and had his ring at the door answered by a new maid. The girl looked at him inquiringly:
“Um—ah—is Professor Johnson at home?” he asked, naming himself.
“No, sir,” the maid replied, “but he is expected any moment now.”
The professor turned away, the girl closed the door. Then the poor man sat down on the steps to wait for himself.