It was simply that the Professor overheard scraps of information that Jimmy was pouring into Molly's ready ear while she listened with glowing cheeks and a gay smile to what he had to say.
"Oh, you'll enjoy New York all right, Miss Brown, and the newspaper work won't be as hard as what you are doing now, I fancy. I'm sure they'd take you on if only for your——" he paused. "You have only to ask and I'll put in a good word, too," he added. "You can never understand what a good time you'll have until you get there—theaters until you have had enough and the opera, too. I often get tickets through our critic——"
"The grand opera," repeated Molly.
"Yes, anything you like. Lohengrin, Aïda, La Boheme. Sooner or later you will see them all. Then there are the restaurants—such jolly places to get little dinners, and you are so independent. You are too busy to be lonesome and you can come and go as you like, nobody to boss you except the editor, of course, and you'll soon catch on. You have a natural knack for writing. I could tell that by your letters——"
Molly, listening to the voice of the tempter, saw a picture of New York as one might see a picture of a carnival, all lights and fun and good times.
"But I want to work, too, more than anything else," she said suddenly.
"Oh, you'll have plenty to do," laughed the careless Jimmy, who took life about as seriously as a humming-bird.
After supper the Professor drew Molly away from the crowd of young people and led her to a sofa in the hall.
"I want to talk to you," he said in a tone of authority that a teacher might use to a pupil. "I could not help overhearing what your newspaper friend was saying to you at supper, and I wish you would take my advice and not listen to a word he says. He's just a young fool!"
The Professor was quite red in the face and Molly also flushed and her eyes darkened with anger.