Then she began to plan how she would tell it to Jarvis, the story of her adventuring into the new field, her swift success, and now this last laurel leaf. Suddenly a new idea lifted its head. Suppose Jarvis refused to come into his own, under her mantle, as it were? He would be proud and glad for her, of course, but maybe he would resent taking his first chance from her hands. With knitted brow she pondered that for some time. The more she thought of it, the more convinced she became that even though he accepted it, and showed gratitude, deep down in his heart would be the feeling that he would be only contributing to her success, that was in no way his own. Long she sat, and finally she laughed, nodded her head, and clapped her hands.
“Oh, yes, that’s the way!” said she.
The Professor came in upon her at this point.
“Are you saying an incantation, my dear?”
“No, offering thanks to the gods.”
“For what?”
“For the most unconscionable luck.”
“In what form, may I ask?”
“Look at me!” she ordered.
He fixed his faded eyes on her closely.
“I see you.”
