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The Stillwell Degravitator By Charles R. Tanner The quiet which usually reigns over the main hail of the big library was suddenly broken by a crash, and the sound of falling books. A girl’s scream followed immediately, and the scraping of chairs as startled readers leaped to their feet. I looked up from the article I had been reading, and was not surprised to find that my opinion of the cause of the accident was correct. At the upper end of the hail, leaning over a fallen rack of books, with a pained and apologetic look on his face, was my friend Professor Isaac N . Stillwell well. The professor’s huge bulk (he is six feet tall and weighs over two hundred and ninety pounds) seemed even larger than usual today. He wore a light gray topcoat, and light colors always enhance a person’s size; and this, combined with the fact that the little assistant librarian who stood looking woefully down at the fallen books was a small thin woman, made him seem almost globular. He had removed his bat, of course and the light from the skylight above, striking his immense bald head, made it shine like the proverbial billiard ball, and added immeasurably to the effect of ponderous dignity. And that huge form was stooping, or attempting to stoop, to remedy the damage done. I left my seat and hurried over to the scene of the accident, Though Stillwell is one of the most proper and dignified men I ever knew, there is about him a certain clumsiness that is cumulative, and when one accident occurs to him, it is better to che4 him at once or you will have half a dozen on your hands. So I hurried over and tapped him on the shoulder and after a nod of recognition, I motioned him to one side. I as-sisted the little librarian to pick up and stack the books, and then turned to my friend. He broke into whispered thanks, but I silenced him and then made my way back to the table where I had been sitting. Stillwell followed and
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