Read The housekeeper and the professor for Free Online Page B

to himself, but I closed the lid of the sewing
box and stood up to announce it was time for dinner.

3
    I finally managed to get the Professor out of the house. Since I'd
come to work, he had not so much as set foot in the garden, let
alone gone for a real outing, and I thought some fresh air would
be good for him.
    "It's beautiful outside today," I said, coaxing him. "It makes
you want to go out, get some sun." The Professor was ensconced
in his easy chair with a book. "Why don't we take a walk in the
park and then stop in at the barbershop?"
    "And why would we do that?" he said, glancing up at me over
his reading glasses.
    "No particular reason. The cherry blossoms are just over in the
park and the dogwood is about to bloom. And a haircut might feel
good."
    "I feel fine like this."
    "A walk would get your circulation going, and that might help
you come up with some good ideas for your formulas."
    "There's no connection between the arteries in the legs and the
ones in the head."
    "Well, you'd be much handsomer if you took care of your hair."
    "Waste of time," he said, but eventually my persistence got the
better of him and he closed his book. The only shoes in the cupboard
by the door were old leather ones covered in a thin layer of
mold. "You'll stay with me?" he asked several times as I was cleaning
them off. "You can't just leave me while I'm having my hair
cut and come home."
    "Don't worry. I'll stay with you the whole time." No matter
how much I polished, the shoes were still dull.
    I wasn't sure what to do with the notes the Professor had
clipped all over his body. If we left them on, people were bound to
stare, but since he didn't seem to care, I decided to leave them
alone.
    The Professor marched along, staring down at his feet, without
a glance at the blue sky overhead or the sights we passed along the
way. The walk did not seem to relax him, he was more tense than
usual.
    "Look," I'd say, "the cherry blossoms are in full bloom." But
he only muttered to himself. Out in the open air, he seemed somehow
older.
    We decided to go to the barbershop first. The barber recoiled
at the sight of the Professor's strange suit, but he turned out to be
a kind man. He realized quickly that there must be a reason for the
notes, and after that he treated the Professor like any other customer.
"You're lucky to have your daughter with you," he said, assuming
we were related. Neither of us corrected him. I sat on the
sofa with the men waiting in line for their haircuts.
    Perhaps the Professor had an unpleasant memory of going to
the barber. Whatever the reason, he was clearly nervous from the
moment the cape was fastened around his neck. His face went
stiff, his fingers dug into the arms of the chair, and deep creases
lined his forehead. The barber brought up several harmless topics
in an attempt to put him at ease, but it was no use.
    "What's your shoe size?" the Professor blurted out. "What's
your telephone number?" The room fell silent.
    Though he could see me in the mirror, he craned around from
time to time, checking to see that I'd kept my promise to stay with
him. When the Professor moved his head, the barber was forced
to stop cutting, but he would wait patiently and then go back to
work. I smiled and gave a little wave to reassure the Professor that
I was still there.
    The white clippings of hair fell in clumps on the cape and then
scattered to the floor. As he cut and combed away, did the barber
suspect that the brain inside this snowy head could list all the
prime numbers up to a hundred million? And did the customers
on the sofa, waiting impatiently for the strange old man to depart,
have any notion of the special bond between my birthday and the
Professor's wristwatch? For some reason, I felt a secret pride in
knowing these things, and I smiled at the Professor just a bit more
brightly in the mirror.
    After the barbershop, we sat on a bench in the park and drank
a can of coffee. There was a sandbox nearby, and a fountain