ago only I did n't know whether— I thought p'raps th' ol' guy—"
"Oh, why did n't you? Oh, dear. Oh, I can't stop." She mopped her face frantically. "Oh, I 'm so glad. Oh, Bab!"
He waited until she had regained control of herself, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. "That 's all right," he said. "I thought p'raps the Professor—" The name checked her; she choked down a sob, suddenly recalled to the thought of him. "I did n't know," Redney went on, "whether he 'd want me round—whether you—"
"Bab!" She rose with all the dignity of an old mother. "D' you think I 'd let him—"
"That 's all right, then. All right. It 's up to him, then."
She took off her kimono and threw it among the cushions. "There!" she said. "I 'm done with him. He 's never treated me right. Never! He told me to-night—No! I 'll work no more for him. Bab!" She threw out her arms to him. "Take me away—from—from this—from him. I—"
"Here now," he said, with embarrassed gruffness. "Yuh don't need to throw a fit. Yuh 're comin' back with me an' stay there. I know a better job than this. Yuh won't have to work fer nobody. Get yer hat on. Come on."
The Professor filled the tent door—wiping his forehead weakly with a red handkerchief, unconscious of the fact that she was not alone. "Well," he said, bitterly,
