Then I began physical
culture in a gymnasium.
I couldn't have made a queerer or a better combination. For it was in the
Barnard laboratory that I met Prof. Darmstetter; and it was my bearing, my
unending practice of the West Point setting-up drill, my Delsarte, my
"harmonic poise" and evident health that drew his attention to me.
How well I remember the day I made his acquaintance! I had entered the
laboratory without knowing what manner of man he was, for all my
arrangements about my course had been made with clerks. So it was with
genuine surprise that I turned from an inspection of the apparatus to
answer when a squeaking voice at my elbow suddenly saluted me:--
"Mees Veenship, not so?"
The owner of the voice was a little old fellow, whose dry, weazened face
gave no hint of his years. I guessed that he was probably seventy, though
he might as easily be much younger. His skin was parchment-coloured and
cross-hatched by a thousand wrinkles and the hair under his skull-cap was
as white as snow, but he was as bright of eye and brisk of manner as a
youth of twenty.
"Yes, sir," I replied rather awkwardly; "I am Miss Winship.
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