“I don’t think it matters, father. You pay in advance, please,” she said to Erb. “Thank you. I’m not sure that I have sufficient change in the house.”
“I will step down the road,” suggested the Professor with a slight excess of eagerness, “and obtain the necessary—”
“No, father.”
“Think I’ve got just enough silver,” said Erb.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”
Good to be called Mister, better still to find it accompanied by a smile of gratitude that somehow also intimated comradeship and a defensive alliance against the ingenious Professor. The Professor, affecting to examine a pimple on his chin at the mirror, looked at his daughter’s reflection in an appealing way; but she shook her head quickly. The Professor sighed and, turning back the cuffs of his shirt, put on an elderly velvet jacket.
“I have some work to do downstairs,” she said, with a curt little bow to Erb. “You will excuse me.”
“Only too pleased, miss,” he said blunderingly.
“Father, you will give Mr. Barnes an hour, please, in the front room. I will come up when the time is—”
“Then I needn’t say good-bye,” remarked Erb gallantly.