And when
the perfessor kicks Henry in the ribs, and Henry
comes to and sneaks out, Jane, she never even turns
her head and looks at him.
"Jane," says the perfessor, when she quiets
down some, "you have a lot o' things to forgive
me. But do you suppose I have learned enough
so that we can make a go of it if we start all over
again?"
But Jane she never said nothing.
"Jane," he says, "Estelle is going back to New
England, as soon as Margery gets well, and she will
stay there for good."
Jane, she begins to take a little intrust then.
"Did Estelle tell you so?" she asts.
"No," says the perfessor. "Estelle doesn't know
it yet. I'm going to break the news to her in the
morning."
But Jane still hates him. She's making herself
hate him hard. She wouldn't of been a human
woman if she had let herself be coaxed up all to
oncet. Purty soon she says: "I'm tired." And
she went out looking like the perfessor was a perfect
stranger. She was a peace, Jane was.
After she left, the perfessor set there quite a spell
and smoked. And he was looking tired out, too.
They wasn't no mistake about me. I was jest
dead all through my legs.
CHAPTER XII
I was down in the perfessor's labertory one day,
and that was a queer place. They was every
kind of scientifics that has ever been dis-
covered in it.
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