And I couldn't blame her so much, either, when I thought of Miss Estelle and all them scientifics of the perfessor's strung out fur years and years world without end. Yet, when I seen the man, I sort o' wished she wouldn't. I seen right off that Henry wouldn't do. It takes a man with a lot of gumption to keep a woman feeling good and not sorry fur doing it when he's married to her. But it takes a man with twicet as much to make her feel right when they ain't married. This feller wears one of them little, brown, pointed beards fur to hide where his chin ain't. And his eyes is too much like a woman's. Which is the kind that gets the biggest piece of pie at the lunch counter and fergits to thank the girl as cuts it big. She was setting in front of a table, twisting her fingers together, and he was walking up and down. I seen he was mad and trying not to show it, and I seen he was scared of the smallpox and trying not to show that, too. And just about that time something happened that kind o' jolted me. They was one of them big chairs in the room where they was that has got a high back and spins around on itself. It was right acrost from me, on the other side of the room, and it was facing the front window, which was a bow window. And that there chair begins to turn, slow and easy. First I thought she wasn't turning. Then I seen she was. But Jane and Henry didn't. They was all took up with each other in the middle of the room, with their back to it. Henry is a-begging of Jane, and she turns a little more, that chair does. Will she squeak, I wonders? “Don't you be a fool, Jane,” says the Henry feller. Around she comes three hull inches, that there chair, and nary a squeak. “A fool?” asks Jane, and laughs. “And I'm not a fool to think of going with you at all, then?” That chair, she moved six inches more and I seen the calf of a leg and part of a crumpled-up coat tail. “But I _am_ going with you, Henry,” says Jane. And she gets up just like she is going to put her arms around him. But Jane don't. Fur that chair swings clear around and there sets the perfessor. He's all hunched up and caved in and he's rubbing his eyes like he's just woke up recent, and he's got a grin on to his face that makes him look like his sister Estelle looks all the time. “Excuse me,” says the perfessor. They both swings around and faces him. I can hear my heart bumping. Jane never says a word. The man with the brown beard never says a word. But if they felt like me they both felt like laying right down there and having a fit. They looks at him and he just sets there and grins at them. But after a while Jane, she says: “Well, now you _know!_ What are you going to do about it?” Henry, he starts to say something, too. But---- “Don't start anything,” says the perfessor to him. “_You_ aren't going to do anything.” Or they was words to that effect. “Professor Booth,” he says, seeing he has got to say something or else Jane will think the worse of him, “I am----”