Mrs. Brady turned without a word and tiptoed up the stairs. Molly heard her breathing heavily as she moved along the hall and tapped on the Professor's door. Then came a muffled voice through the closed door. "I'll git ye some breakfast, sir," called Mrs. Brady, and down she came. "Shure an' you wuz right an' I wuz wrong, an' I'm obliged to you for the information. But he'll not be ready for seein' people for an hour yet, maybe longer." "Mrs. Brady," said Molly, moved by a sudden inspiration. "Let me get his breakfast." "But----" objected the Irish woman. "I'm a splendid cook and I'll give you no trouble at all. Please." Molly put her hands on the Irish woman's shoulders and looked into her face appealingly. "Shure, thim eyes is like the gals' in the old countree, Miss," remarked Mrs. Brady, visibly melting under that telling gaze. "Ye can do as you like, but if the Professor don't like his breakfast the blame be on you." "He'll like it, I'm perfectly certain," said Molly, following Mrs. Brady back to the kitchen. "It's a very, very funny world," said Mrs. Brady, displaying the contents of her larder to the volunteer cook. Her resources were limited, to be sure, but Molly improvised a breakfast out of them that a king would not have scorned. There were pop-overs done to a golden brown, a perfect little omelet, bacon crisp enough to please the most fastidious palate and an old champagne glass, the spoils of some festive occasion, filled with iced orange juice. The coffee was strong and fragrant. "He's very particular about it, Miss, an' he buys his own brand." Then Molly set the tray. Mrs. Brady's best white linen cover she snatched from the shelf without asking leave. In a twinkling she had polished and heated the blue china dishes, placed the breakfast on them and covered them tight with hot soup plates, since there were no other covers. Then she snipped off the top of a red geranium blooming in the window sill and dropped it into a finger bowl. "Lord love ye, Miss, but that's a beautiful tray," exclaimed Mrs. Brady, hypnotized by Molly's swift movements and skillful workmanship. "If I did not know ye wuz a lady from your looks I should say ye wuz a born cook. But Mrs. Murphy be afther tellin' me how you used to make things in her kitchen. Ye must be the same one, since it's red hair and blue eyes ye have----" Molly had disappeared into the pantry to replace the flour sifter while Mrs. Brady was holding forth, and now through a crack in the pantry door she saw the kitchen door open and Professor Green, in a long dressing gown, stalk in. "Don't bother about breakfast for me, Mrs. Brady," he said. "A cup of coffee quite strong--stronger than you usually make it, please--that's all I want." Mrs. Brady, glancing at Molly hidden in the pantry, saw her shake her head and place a finger on her lips.