oolish about a man they can stand to have
that man killed a good 'eal better than to have him showed up ridiculous
right in front of them. They will still be crazy about the man that is
dead, even if he was crooked. But they don't never forgive the fellow
that lets himself be made a fool and lets them look foolish, too. 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 discovered
in it. Some was pickled in bottles and some was stuffed and some was
pinned to the walls with their wings spread out. If you took hold of
anything, it was likely to be a skull and give you the shivers or some
electric contraption and shock you; and if you tipped over a jar and
it broke, enough germs might get loose to slaughter a hull town. I was
helping the perfessor to unpack a lot of stuff some friends had sent
him, and I noticed a bottle that had onto it, blowed in the glass:

DANIEL, DUNNE AND COMPANY

"That's funny," says I, out loud.

"What is?" asts the perfessor.

I showed him the bottle and told him how I was named after the company
that made 'em. He says to look around me. They is all kinds of glassware
in that room--bottles and jars and queer-shaped things with crooked tails
and noses--and nig