"Faix, that's a turn the right way anyhow.

But have ye thought o' yer clothes, me dear ?" "Clothes ?" repeats the professor vaguely.
"Arrah, wait," says she, and runs away lightly, in spite of her fifty years and her too, too solid flesh, and presently returns with the professor's best coat and a clothes brush that, from its appearance, might reasonably be supposed to have been left behind by Noah when he stepped out of the Ark.

With this latter (having put the coat on him) she proceeds to belabor the professor with great spirit, and presently sends him forth shining--if not _in_ternally, at all events _ex_ternally.
In truth the professor's mood is not a happy one.

Sitting in the hansom that is taking him all too swiftly to his destination, he dwells with terror on the girl--the undesired ward--who has been thrust upon him.

He has quite made up his mind about her.