Thus it was that almost in the first instant of their meeting, my mother and Lord Cheldthorpe began some flirtation, which I greeted with the same admixture of acceptance and incomprehension with which I observed most of the familiarities and designs of adults.

My mother would play upon the harpsichord, and he would lie upon the sofa, tapping his hand out of time.

My mother, with colors and an elaborate quill, would be sketching some fantastical bird that even the adoring eyes of a son could see looked like nothing so much as a sirloin steak with a drill for a head.

Lord Cheldthorpe would stand by her, admiring over her shoulder. “Your Highness,” he would say, “it breathes. Stop my vitals — I fear if you make it any more lifelike, it will flit off the page.”

“You flatter me, sir.”

“Hardly, Your Highness. I am startled at the number of your accomplishments.”

“My Lord,” she replied, “if, in your eyes, I seem accomplished, it is only because by your side, I reflect the luster of your own manifold achievements.”

He laughed. “Oh — Princess.”

“Milord?”

“Oh, Princess.”

“Oh, Milord. . . . Octavian,” said my mother, “stop breaking my crayons.”

“I’m not breaking,” said I. “I’m drawing.”

“‘Drawing’ is not snapping crayons and hurling them across the room.”

I said, “It’s the volcano Vesuvius in the very height of its eruption. That’s how you draw magma.”

“Now that is a demme fine volcano,” said Lord Cheldthorpe, squatting down by me.

I said, “It rained ash upon the living and the dead. And gasses came out that were killing.”

“Indeed,” said my mother, swatting my hand. “Killing my red.”

“The Elder Pliny died of them.”

Lord Cheldthorpe said, “Faugh! He is an astonishing child. The astonishing child of an astonishing mother.”

“Oh,” said my mother, “there is no true substitute for a Classical education.”

After a few such sessions as these, Lord Cheldthorpe concluded that he should like to extend his stay before moving down the coast to see the Carolinas. He and Mr. 03-01 and several other of our academicians spake about possible endeavors.

They hit upon a plan. We saw that tents were purchased, and there was talk of provender, and transportation cases for the astronomical instruments. We did not know what these things signified.

One night, 03-01 called together several of the most select among the College, and outlined the venture further: “My friends, as many of you are doubtless sensible, this summer, a most remarkable celestial conjunction shall occur . . . the Transit of Venus. It is an astrological phenomenon we have long wished to observe . . . for it provides us an opportunity to calculate the Earth’s distance from our sun. As Venus crosses the face of Sol, we may time its crossing and, by so doing, produce data for triangulation.

“At this moment, we are granted a unique opportunity to pursue this observation, My Lord Cheldthorpe agreeing to fund a voyage into the forests of northern New-York, that we might record a significant westerly account of the conjunction. Thus, first, we shall be able to observe clearly the Transit, which shall not occur again in our lifetimes. Second, My Lord 02-06, if I may call him so, is an avid sportsman, and in the wilds of New-York he shall find plenty of scope for unusual chases and kills. Finally, we may hope the charm and pleasure of such an excursion, in such excellent company, shall interest My Lord Cheldthorpe in our continuance.

“We hope to triumph upon three heads, therefore, introducing His Lordship to opportunities in the New World for profit, for pleasure, and for unparalleled scientific progress.”