of the till in the box-office. The tragedy was inevitable. The end was foreseen.
And Redney suddenly suspected that it had arrived.
He went downstairs to the box-office to investigate. The Professor proceeded to introduce a "paper wizard" who was waiting to fold a sheet of foolscap into some thousand different shapes, to sell a water-proof shoe-dressing that he had discovered in a "geezer" in Yellowstone Park, and to preside over the transformations of an "Enchanted Palace" of tinsel and tissue paper, "showing seven wonderful scenes from all parts of the universe, and closing with a grand transformation scene in honor to our national hero, Admiral Dewey." And when the paper wizard stepped forward to roll up his sleeves, the Professor looked in on Madame Carlotta.
"What 's that boy doing in your tent all the time?" he demanded. "I don't want him round. I told you that before."
His dislike of the boy was the antipathy of mature dignity for the insulting self-sufficiency of youth. It had been increased by Redney's open contempt for the Professor's eloquence. It had gained purpose and effect when Redney succeeded in so ingratiating himself with Madame Carlotta that she had wished to "give the poor boy a home," and the Professor had refused to let her do it.
She put her hand down flat on the table. "Mac," she said, in a low voice of determination, "I won't stand it. I won't stand it no longer. People are throwin' it up to me the way you treat me—"
