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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:09 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:44:09 -0700 |
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diff --git a/14303-h/14303-h.htm b/14303-h/14303-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad023d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/14303-h/14303-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14739 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta name="generator" content= +"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 1st February 2004), see www.w3.org" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Queed, by Henry Sydnor +Harrison.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14303 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/001.jpg"><img src= +"images/001.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<br /> +<b>MR. QUEED, YOU ARE AFFLICTED WITH A FATAL MALADY. YOUR COSMOS IS +ALL EGO</b> +<br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>QUEED</h1> +<h3>A NOVEL</h3> +<h4>BY</h4> +<h4>HENRY SYDNOR HARRISON</h4> +<h5>WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> +R.M. CROSBY</h5> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/002.png" width="10%" alt="" +title="" /></div> +<p class="center">BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY</p> +<p class="center"><b>The Riverside Press Cambridge</b><br /> +1911</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>TO MY MOTHER</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="center"> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#I">I</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#I"><i>First Meeting between a Citizen in Spectacles +and the Great<br /> +Pleasure-Dog Behemoth; also of Charles Gardiner West, a<br /> +Personage at Thirty</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#I">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#II">II</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#II"><i>Mrs. Paynter's Boarding-House: which was not +founded as an<br /> +Eleemosynary Institution</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#II">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#III">III</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#III"><i>Encounter between Charlotte Lee Weyland, a +Landlady's Agent,<br /> +and Doctor Queed, a Young Man who wouldn't pay +hisBoard</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#III">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#IV">IV</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#IV"><i>Relating how Two Stars in their Courses fought +for Mr. Queed;<br /> +and how he accepted Remunerative Employment under Colonel<br /> +Cowles, the Military Political Economist</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#IV">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#V">V</a></td> +<td><br /></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#V"><i>Selections from Contemporary Opinions of Mr. +Queed; also concerning<br /> +Henry G. Surface, his Life and Deeds; of Fifi, the<br /> +Landlady's Daughter, and how she happened to look up Altruism<br /> +in the Dictionary</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#V">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#VI">VI</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#VI"><i>Autobiographical Data imparted, for Sound +Business Reasons,<br /> +to a Landlady's Agent; of the Agent's Other Title, +etc.</i></a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#VI">64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XVII">VII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#VII"><i>In which an Assistant Editor, experiencing +the Common Desire<br /> +to thrash a Proof-Reader, makes a Humiliating Discovery;<br /> +and of how Trainer Klinker gets a Pupil the Same +Evening</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#VII">79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XVIII">VIII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#VIII"><i>Formal Invitation to Fifi to share Queed's +Dining-Room (provided<br /> +it is very cold upstairs); and First Outrage upon the<br /> +Sacred Schedule of Hours</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#VIII">93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#IX">IX</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#IX"><i>Of Charles Gardiner West, President-Elect of +Blaines College,<br /> +and his Ladies Fair: all in Mr. West's Lighter Manner</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#IX">104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#X">X</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#X"><i>Of Fifi on Friendship, and who would be sorry +if Queed died;<br /> +of Queed's Mad Impulse, sternly overcome; of his Indignant<br /> +Call upon Nicolovius, the Old Professor</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#X">114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XI">XI</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XI"><i>Concerning a Plan to make a Small Gift to a +Fellow-Boarder,<br /> +and what it led to in the Way of Calls; also touching upon<br /> +Mr. Queed's Dismissal from the Post, and the Generous Resolve<br /> +of the Young Lady, Charles Weyland</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#IX">127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XII">XII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XII"><i>More Consequences of the Plan about the Gift, +and of how Mr.<br /> +Queed drinks his Medicine like a Man; Fifi on Men, and<br /> +how they do; Second Corruption of the Sacred Schedule</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XII">137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XIII">XIII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XIII"><i>"Taking the Little Doctor Down a Peg or +Two": as performed<br /> +for the First and Only Time by Sharlee Weyland</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIII">146</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XIV">XIV</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XIV"><i>In which Klinker quotes Scripture, and Queed +has helped Fifi<br /> +with her Lessons for the Last Time</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIV">163</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XV">XV</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XV"><i>In a Country Churchyard, and afterwards; of +Friends: how they<br /> +take your Time while they live, and then die, upsetting your<br /> +Evening's Work; and what Buck Klinker saw in the Scriptorium<br /> +at 2 a.m.</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XV">174</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XVI">XVI</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XVI"><i>Triumphal Return of Charles Gardiner West +from the Old World;<br /> +and of how the Other World had wagged in his Absence</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVI">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XVII">XVII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XVII"><i>A Remeeting in a Cemetery: the Unglassed +Queed who loafed on<br /> +Rustic Bridges; of the Consequences of failing to tell a Lady<br /> +that you hope to see her again soon</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVII">200</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XVIII">XVIII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XVIII"><i>Of President West of Old Blaines College, +his Trustees and his<br /> +Troubles; his Firmness in the Brown-Jones Hazing Incident<br /> +so misconstrued by Malicious Asses; his Article for the Post,<br /> +and why it was never printed: all ending in West's Profound<br /> +Dissatisfaction with the Rewards of Patriotism</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XVIII">216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XIX">XIX</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XIX"><i>The Little House on Duke of Gloucester +Street; and the Beginning<br /> +of Various Feelings, Sensibilities, and Attitudes between two<br /> +Lonely Men</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XIX">239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XX">XX</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XX"><i>Meeting of the Post Directors to elect a +Successor to Colonel<br /> +Cowles; Charles Gardiner West's Sensible Remarks on Mr. Queed; +Mr.<br /> +West's Resignation from Old Blaines College, and New +Consecration<br /> +to the Uplift</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XX">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXI">XXI</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXI"><i>Queed sits on the Steps with Sharlee, and +sees Some Old Soldiers<br /> +go marching by</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXI">257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXII">XXII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXII"><i>In which Professor Nicolovius drops a Letter +on the Floor, and<br /> +Queed conjectures that happiness sometimes comes to Men<br /> +wearing a Strange Face</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXII">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXIII">XXIII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXIII"><i>Of the Bill for the Reformatory, and its +Critical Situation; of<br /> +West's Second Disappointment with the Rewards of Patriotism;<br /> +of the Consolation he found in the Most Charming Resolve<br /> +in the World</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIII">290</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXIV">XXIV</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXIV"><i>Sharlee's Parlor on Another Evening; how One +Caller outsat Two,<br /> +and why; also, how Sharlee looked in her Mirror for a Long<br /> +Time, and why</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIV">300</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXV">XXV</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXV"><i>Recording a Discussion about the Reformatory +between Editor<br /> +West and his Dog-like Admirer, the City Boss; and a Briefer<br /> +Conversation between West and Prof. Nicolovius's +Boarder</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXV">312</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXVI">XXVI</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXVI"><i>In which Queed forces the Old Professor's +Hand, and the Old<br /> +Professor takes to his Bed</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVI">330</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXVII">XXVII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXVII"><i>Sharlee Weyland reads the Morning Post; of +Rev. Mr. Dayne's<br /> +Fight at Ephesus and the Telephone Message that never came;<br /> +of the Editor's Comment upon the Assistant Editor's +Resignation,<br /> +which perhaps lacked Clarity; and of how Eight Men<br /> +elect a Mayor</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVII">345</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXVIII">XXVIII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXVIII"><i>How Words can be like Blows, and Blue Eyes +stab deep; how<br /> +Queed sits by a Bedside and reviews his Life; and how a<br /> +Thought leaps at him and will not down</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXVIII">363</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXIX">XXIX</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXIX"><i>In which Queed's Shoulders can bear One +Man's Roguery and<br /> +Another's Dishonor, and of what these Fardels cost him: how<br /> +for the Second Time in his Life he stays out of Bed to +think</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXIX">375</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXX">XXX</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXX"><i>Death of the Old Professor, and how Queed +finds that his List of<br /> +Friends has grown; a Last Will and Testament; Exchange of<br /> +Letters among Prominent Attorneys, which unhappily proves<br /> +futile</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXX">387</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXXI">XXXI</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXXI"><i>God moves in a Mysterious Way: how the +finished Miss Avery<br /> +appears as the Instrument of Providence; how Sharlee sees<br /> +her Idol of Many Years go toppling in the Dust, and how it is<br /> +her Turn to meditate in the Still Watches</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXXI">397</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="center"><a href="#XXXII">XXXII</a></td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#XXXII"><i>Second Meeting between a Citizen and the +Great Pleasure-Dog<br /> +Behemoth, involving Plans for Two New Homes</i>.</a></td> +<td align="right"><a href="#XXXII">416</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>QUEED</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>First Meeting between a citizen in Spectacles and the Great +Pleasure-Dog Behemoth; also of Charles Gardiner West, a Personage +at Thirty.</i></p> +</div> +<p>It was five of a November afternoon, crisp and sharp, and +already running into dusk. Down the street came a girl and a dog, +rather a small girl and quite a behemothian dog. If she had been a +shade smaller, or he a shade more behemothian, the thing would have +approached a parody on one's settled idea of a girl and a dog. She +had enough height to save that, but it was the narrowest sort of +squeak.</p> +<p>The dog was of the breed which are said to come trotting into +Alpine monasteries of a winter's night with fat American travelers +in their mouths, frozen stiff. He was extremely large for his age, +whatever that was. On the other hand, the girl was small for her +age, which was twenty-four next month; not so much short, you +understand, for she was of a reasonable height, as of a dainty +slimness, a certain exquisite reticence of the flesh. She had cares +and duties and even sober-sided responsibilities in this world, +beyond the usual run of girls. Yet her hat was decidedly of the +mode that year; her suit was smartly and engagingly cut; her furs +were glossy and black and big. Her face, it may be said here as +well as later, had in its time given pleasure to the male sex, and +some food for critical conversation to the female. A good many of +the young men whom she met along the way this afternoon appeared +distinctly pleased to speak to her.</p> +<p>The girl was Sharlee Weyland, and Sharlee was the short for +Charlotte Lee, as invented by herself some score of years before. +One baby-name in a hundred sticks through a lifetime, and hers was +the one in that particular hundred. Of the young men along the way, +one was so lucky as to catch her eye through a large plate-glass +window. It was Semple and West's window, the ground-floor one in +the great new Commonwealth Building, of which the town is rightly +so proud, and the young man was no other than West, Charles +Gardiner himself. A smile warmed his good-looking face when he met +the eye of the girl and the dog; he waved a hand at them. That +done, he immediately vanished from the window and reached for his +hat and coat; gave hurried directions to a clerk and a +stenographer; and sallying forth, overtook the pair before they had +reached the next corner.</p> +<p>"Everything's topsy-turvy," said he, coming alongside. "Here you +are frivolously walking downtown with a dog. Usually at this time +you are most earnestly walking uptown, and not a sign of a dog as +far as the eye can see. What on earth's happened?"</p> +<p>"Oh, how do you do?" said she, apparently not displeased to find +herself thus surprised from the rear. "I too have a mad kind of +feeling, as though the world had gone upside down. Don't be amazed +if I suddenly clutch out at you to keep from falling. But the name +of it—of this feeling—is having a holiday. Mr. Dayne +went to New York at 12.20."</p> +<p>"Ah, I see. When the cat's away?"</p> +<p>"Not at all. I am taking this richly earned vacation by his +express command."</p> +<p>"In that case, why mightn't we turn about and go a real +walk—cease picking our way through the noisome hum of +commerce and set brisk evening faces toward the open road—and +all that? You and I and the dog. What is his name? Rollo, I +suppose?"</p> +<p>"Rollo! No! Or Tray or Fido, either! His name is Bee, short for +Behemoth—and I think that a very captivating little name, +don't you? His old name, the one I bought him by, was +Fred—<i>Fred</i>!—but already he answers to the pretty +name of Bee as though he were born to it. Watch." She pursed her +lips and gave a whistle, unexpectedly loud and clear. "Here, Bee, +here! Here, sir! Look, look. He turned around <i>right +away</i>!"</p> +<p>West laughed. "Wonderfully gifted dog. But I believe you +mentioned taking a walk in the November air. I can only say that +physicians strongly recommend it, valetudinarians swear by +it—"</p> +<p>"Oh—if I only could!—but I simply cannot think of +it. Do you know, I never have a holiday without wondering how on +earth I could have gotten on another day without it. You can't +imagine what loads of things I've done since two o'clock, and loads +remain. The very worst job of them all still hangs by a hair over +my head. I must cross here."</p> +<p>West said that evidently her conception of a holiday was badly +mixed. As they walked he paid for her society by incessantly taking +off his hat; nearly everybody they met spoke to them, many more to +him than to her. Though both of them had been born in that city and +grown up with it, the girl had only lately come to know West well, +and she did not know him very well now. All the years hitherto she +had joined in the general admiration of him shyly and from a +distance, the pretty waiting-lady's attitude toward the dazzling +young crown prince. She was observant, and so she could not fail to +observe now the cordiality with which people of all sorts saluted +him, the touch of deference in the greeting of not a few. He was +scarcely thirty, but it would have been clear to a duller eye that +he was already something of a personage. Yet he held no public +office, nor were his daily walks the walks of philanthropic labor +for the common good. In fact Semple & West's was merely a +brokerage establishment, which was understood to be cleaning up a +tolerable lot of money per annum.</p> +<p>They stood on the corner, waiting for a convenient chance to +cross, and West looked at her as at one whom it was pleasant to +rest one's eyes upon. She drew his attention to their humming +environment. For a city of that size the life and bustle here were, +indeed, such as to take the eye. Trolley cars clanged by in a +tireless procession; trucks were rounding up for stable and for +bed; delivery wagons whizzed corners and bumped on among them; now +and then a chauffeur honked by, grim eyes roving for the unwary +pedestrian. On both sides of the street the homeward march of tired +humans was already forming and quickening.</p> +<p>"Heigho! We're living in an interesting time, you and I," said +West. "It isn't every generation that can watch its old town change +into a metropolis right under its eyes."</p> +<p>"I remember," said she, "when it was an exciting thing to see +anybody on the street you didn't know. You went home and told the +family about it, and very likely counted the spoons next morning. +The city seemed to belong to <i>us</i> then. And now—look. +Everywhere new kings that know not Joseph. Bee!"</p> +<p>"It's the law of life; the old order changeth." He turned and +looked along the street, into the many faces of the homeward bound. +"The eternal mystery of the people.... Don't you like to look at +their faces and wonder what they're all doing and thinking and +hoping and dreaming to make out of their lives?"</p> +<p>"Don't you think they're all hoping and dreaming just one +thing?—how to make more money than they're making at present? +All over the world," said Miss Weyland, "bright young men lie awake +at night, thinking up odd, ingenious ways to take other people's +money away from them. These young men are the spirit of America. +We're having an irruption of them here now ... the Goths sacking +the sacred city."</p> +<p>"Clever rascals they are too. I," said West, "belong to the +other group. I sleep of nights and wake up in the morning to have +your bright young Goths take my money away from me."</p> +<p>He laughed and continued: "Little Bobby Smythe, who used to live +here, was in my office the other day. I was complimenting him on +the prosperity of the plumbers' supply manufacture—for such +is his mundane occupation, in Schenectady, N.Y. Bobby said that +plumbers' supplies were all well enough, but he made his real money +from an interesting device of his own. There is a lot of building +going on in his neighborhood, it seems, and it occurred to him to +send around to the various owners and offer his private watchman to +guard the loose building materials at night. This for the very +reasonable price of $3.50 a week. It went like hot cakes. 'But,' +said I, 'surely your one watchman can't look after thirty-seven +different places.' 'No,' said Bobby, 'but they think he does.' I +laughed and commended his ingenuity. 'But the best part of the +joke,' said he, 'is that <i>I haven't got any watchman at +all</i>.'"</p> +<p>Sharlee Weyland laughed gayly. "Bobby could stand for the +portrait of young America."</p> +<p>"You've been sitting at the feet of a staunch old Tory Gamaliel +named Colonel Cowles. I can see that. Ah, me! My garrulity has cost +us a splendid chance to cross. What are all these dreadful things +you have still left to do on your so-called holiday?"</p> +<p>"Well," said she, "first I'm going to Saltman's to buy +stationery. Boxes and boxes of it, for the Department. Bee! Come +here, sir! Look how fat this purse is. I'm going to spend all of +that. Bee! I wish I had put him to leash. He's going to hurt +himself in a minute—you see!—"</p> +<p>"Don't you think he's much more likely to hurt somebody else? +For a guess, that queer-looking little citizen in spectacles over +the way, who so evidently doesn't know where he is at."</p> +<p>"Oh, do you think so?—Bee!... Then, after stationery, +comes the disagreeable thing, and yet interesting too. I have to go +to my Aunt Jennie's, dunning."</p> +<p>"You are compelled to dun your Aunt Jennie?"</p> +<p>She laughed. "No—dun for her, because she's too +tender-hearted to do it herself. There's a man there who won't pay +his board. Bee! Bee!—BEE!-O heavens—It's happened!"</p> +<p>And, too quick for West, she was gone into the +mêlée, which immediately closed in behind her, +barricading him away.</p> +<p>What had happened was a small tragedy in its way. The little +citizen in spectacles, who had been standing on the opposite corner +vacantly eating an apple out of a paper bag, had unwisely chosen +his moment to try the crossing. He was evidently an indoors sort of +man and no shakes at crossing streets, owing to the introspective +nature of his mind. A grocery wagon shaved him by an inch. It was +doing things to the speed-limit, this wagon, because a dashing +police patrol was close behind, treading on its tail and +indignantly clanging it to turn out, which it could not possibly +do. To avoid erasing the little citizen, the patrol man had to pull +sharply out; and this manoeuvre, as Fate had written it, brought +him full upon the great dog Behemoth, who, having slipped across +the tracks, stood gravely waiting for the flying wagon to pass. +Thus it became a clear case of <i>sauve qui peut</i>, and the devil +take the hindermost. There was nothing in the world for Behemoth to +do but wildly leap under the hoofs for his life. This he did +successfully. But on the other side he met the spectacled citizen +full and fair, and down they went together with a thud.</p> +<p>The little man came promptly to a sitting posture and took stock +of the wreck. His hat he could not see anywhere, the reason being +that he was sitting on it. The paper bag, of course, had burst; +some of the apples had rolled to amazing distances, and newsboys, +entire strangers to the fallen gentleman, were eating them with +cries of pleasure. This he saw in one pained glance. But on the +very heels of the dog, it seemed, came hurrying a girl with marks +of great anxiety on her face.</p> +<p>"Can you possibly forgive him? That fire-alarm thing scared him +crazy—he's usually so good! You aren't hurt, are you? I do +hope so much that you aren't?"</p> +<p>The young man, sitting calmly in the street, glanced up at Miss +Weyland with no sign of interest.</p> +<p>"I have no complaint to make," he answered, precisely; "though +the loss of my fruit seems unfortunate, to say the least of +it."</p> +<p>"I know! The way they fell on them," she answered, as +self-unconscious as he—"quite as though you had offered to +treat! I'm very much mortified—But—<i>are</i> you hurt? +I thought for a minute that the coal cart was going right over +you."</p> +<p>A crowd had sprung up in a wink; a circle of interested faces +watching the unembarrassed girl apologizing to the studious-looking +little man who sat so calmly upon his hat in the middle of the +street. Meantime all traffic on that side was hopelessly blocked. +Swearing truck drivers stood up on their seats from a block away to +see what had halted the procession.</p> +<p>"But what is the object of a dog like that?" inquired the man +ruminatively. "What good is he? What is he for?"</p> +<p>"Why—why—why," said she, looking ready to +laugh—"he's not a utilitarian dog at all, you see! He's a +pleasure-dog, you know—just a big, beautiful dog to give +pleasure!—"</p> +<p>"The pleasure he has given me," said the man, gravely producing +his derby from beneath him and methodically undenting it, "is +negligible. I may say non-existent."</p> +<p>From somewhere rose a hoarse titter. The girl glanced up, and +for the first time became aware that her position was somewhat +unconventional. A very faint color sprang into her cheeks, but she +was not the kind to retreat in disorder. West dodged through the +blockade in time to hear her say with a final, smiling bow:</p> +<p>"I'm so glad you aren't hurt, believe me ... And if my dog has +given you no pleasure, you may like to think that you have given +him a great deal."</p> +<p>A little flushed but not defeated, her gloved hand knotted in +Behemoth's gigantic scruff, she moved away, resigning the situation +to West. West handled it in his best manner, civilly assisting the +little man to rise, and bowing himself off with the most graceful +expressions of regret for the mishap.</p> +<p>Miss Weyland was walking slowly, waiting for him, and he fell in +beside her on the sidewalk.</p> +<p>"Don't speak to me suddenly," said she, in rather a muffled +voice. "I don't want to scream on a public street."</p> +<p>"Scratch a professor and you find a Tartar," said West, laughing +too. "When I finally caught you, laggard that I was, you looked as +if he were being rude."</p> +<p>Miss Weyland questioned the rudeness; she said that the man was +only superbly natural. "Thoughts came to him and he blabbed them +out artlessly. The only things that he seemed in the least +interested in were his apples and Bee. Don't you think from this +that he must be a floral and faunal naturalist?"</p> +<p>"No Goth, at any rate. Did you happen to notice the tome +sticking out of his coat pocket? It was <i>The Religion of +Humanity</i>, unless my old eyes deceived me. Who under heaven +reads Comte nowadays?"</p> +<p>"Not me," said Miss Weyland.</p> +<p>"There's nothing to it. As a wealthy old friend of mine once +remarked, people who read that sort of books never make over +eighteen hundred a year."</p> +<p>On that they turned into Saltman's. There much stationery and +collateral stuff was bought for cash paid down, and all for the use +of the Department. Next, at a harness-store, a leash was bargained +for and obtained, and Behemoth bowled over no more young men that +day. Thereafter, the two set their faces westerly till they came to +the girl's home, where the dog was delivered to the cook, and Miss +Weyland went upstairs to kiss her mother. Still later they set out +northward through the lamp-lit night for the older part of town, +where resided the aunt on whose behalf there was dunning to be done +that night.</p> +<p>Charles Gardiner West asserted that he had not a thing in all +this world to do, and that erranding was only another way of taking +a walk, when you came to think of it. She was frankly glad of his +company; to be otherwise was to be fantastic; and now as they +strolled she led him to talk of his work, which was never +difficult. For West, despite his rising prosperity, was +dissatisfied with his calling, the reason being, as he himself +sometimes put it, that his heart did not abide with the money +changers.</p> +<p>"Sometimes at night," he said seriously, "I look back over the +busy day and ask myself what it has all amounted to. Suppose I did +all the world's stock-jobbing, what would I really have +accomplished? You may say that I could take all the money I made +and spend it for free hospitals, but would I do it? No. The more I +made, the more I'd want for myself, the more all my interest and +ambition would twine themselves around the counting-room. You can't +serve two masters, can you, Miss Weyland? Uplifting those who need +uplifting is a separate business, all by itself."</p> +<p>"You could make the money," laughed she, "and let me spend it +for you. I know this minute where I could put a million to glorious +advantage."</p> +<p>"I'm going to get out of it," said West. "I've told Semple +so—though perhaps it ought not to go further just yet. I'd +enjoy," said he, "just such work as yours. There's none finer. +You'd like me immensely as your royal master, I suppose? Want +nothing better than to curtsy and kowtow when I flung out a +gracious order?—as, for instance, to shut up shop and go and +take a holiday?"</p> +<p>"Delicious! Though I doubt if anybody in the world could improve +on Mr. Dayne." Suddenly a new thought struck her, and she made a +faint grimace. "There's nothing so very fine about my present +work—oh me! I'll give you that if you want it."</p> +<p>"I see I must look this gift horse over very closely. What is +it?"</p> +<p>"They call it dunning."</p> +<p>"I forgot. You started to tell me, and then your dog ran amuck +and began butting perfect strangers all over the place."</p> +<p>"Oh," said she, "it's the commonest little story in the world. +All landladies can tell them to you by the hour. This man has been +at Aunt Jennie's nearly a month, and what's the color of his money +she hasn't the faintest idea. Such is the way our bright young men +carve out their fortunes—the true Gothic architecture! +Possibly Aunt Jennie has thrown out one or two delicate hints, +carefully insulated to avoid hurting his feelings. You know the way +our ladies of the old school do—the worst collectors the +world has ever seen. So she telephoned me this morning—I'm +her business woman, you see—asking me to come and advise her, +and I'm coming, and after supper—"</p> +<p>"Well, what'll you do?"</p> +<p>"I'm going to talk with him, with the man. I'm simply going to +<i>collect that money</i>. Or if I can't—"</p> +<p>"What's the horrid alternative?"</p> +<p>"I'm going to <i>fire</i> him!"</p> +<p>West laughed merrily. His face always looked most charming when +he smiled. "Upon my word I believe you can do it."</p> +<p>"I <i>have</i> done it, lots of times."</p> +<p>"Ah! And is the ceremony ever attended by scenes of storm and +violence?"</p> +<p>"Never. They march like little lambs when I say the word. +Hay-foot—straw-foot!"</p> +<p>"But then your aunt loses their arrears of board, I +suppose."</p> +<p>"Yes, and for that reason I never fire except as a last +desperate resort. Signs of penitence, earnest resolves to lead a +better life, are always noted and carefully considered."</p> +<p>"If you <i>should</i> need help with this customer +to-night—not that I think you will, oh no!—telephone +me. I'm amazingly good at handling bright young men. This is your +aunt's, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"No, no—next to the corner over there. O heavens! +Look—<i>look!</i>"</p> +<p>West looked. Up the front steps of Miss Weyland's Aunt Jennie's +a man was going, a smallish man in a suit of dusty clothes, who +limped as he walked. The electric light at the corner illumined him +perfectly—glinted upon the spectacles, touched up the stout +volume in the coat-pocket, beat full upon the swaybacked derby, +whereon its owner had sat what time Charlotte Lee Weyland +apologized for the gaucherie of Behemoth. And as they watched, this +man pushed open Aunt Jennie's front door, with never so much as a +glance at the door-bell, and stepped as of right inside.</p> +<p>Involuntarily West and Miss Weyland had halted; and now they +stared at each other with a kind of wild surmise which rapidly +yielded to ludicrous certainty. West broke into a laugh.</p> +<p>"Well, do you think you'll have the nerve to fire +<i>him</i>?"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Mrs. Paynter's Boarding-House: which was not founded as an +Eleemosynary Institution.</i></p> +</div> +<p>There was something of a flutter among the gathered boarders +when Miss Weyland was seen to be entering the house, and William +Klinker, who announced the fact from his place by the window, added +that that had ought to help some with the supper. He reminded the +parlor that there had been Porterhouse the last time. Miss Miller, +from the sofa, told Mr. Klinker archly that he was <i>so</i> +material. She had only the other day mastered the word, but even +that is more than could be said for Mr. Klinker. Major Brooke stood +by the Latrobe heater, reading the evening paper under a flaring +gas-light. He habitually came down early to get it before anybody +else had a chance. By Miss Miller on the sofa sat Mr. Bylash, +stroking the glossy moustache which other ladies before her time +had admired intensely. Despite her archness Miss Miller had heard +with a pang that Miss Weyland was coming to supper, and her reason +was not unconnected with this same Mr. Bylash. In earlier meetings +she had vaguely noted differences between Mrs. Paynter's pretty +niece and herself. True, she considered these differences all in +her own favor, as, for example, her far larger back pompadour, with +the puffs, but you never could tell about gentlemen.</p> +<p>"I'm surprised," she said to Mr. Klinker, "Mr. Bylash didn't go +out to give her the glad hand, and welcome her into our humble +<i>coturee</i>."</p> +<p>Mr. Bylash, who had been thinking of doing that very thing, said +rather shortly that the ladies present quite satisfied +<i>him</i>.</p> +<p>"And who do you think brought her around and right up to the +door?" continued William Klinker, taking no notice of their +blandishments. "Hon. West—Charles Gardenia West—"</p> +<p>A scream from Miss Miller applauded the witty hit.</p> +<p>"Oh, it ain't mine," said Mr. Klinker modestly. "I heard a +fellow get it off at the shop the other day. He's a pretty smooth +fellow, Charles Gardenia is—a little too smooth for my way of +thinking. A fellow that's always so smilin'—Oh, you Smithy!" +he suddenly yelled out the window—"Smithy! Hey!—Aw, I +can beat the face off you!—Awright—eight sharp at the +same place.—Go on, you fat Mohawk you!... But say," he +resumed to the parlor, "y'know that little woman is a stormy petrel +for this house—that's right. Remember the last time she was +here—the time we had the Porterhouse? Conference in the +dining-room after supper, and the next morning out went the trunks +of that red-head fellow—from Baltimore—what's his +name?—Milhiser."</p> +<p>"Well, she hasn't got any call to intrude in my affairs," said +Mr. Bylash, still rather miffed. "I'm here to tell you that!"</p> +<p>"Oh, I ain't speakin' of the reg'lars," answered Klinker, "so +don't get nervous. But say, I got kind of a hunch that here is +where the little Doc gets his."</p> +<p>Klinker's hunch was not without foundation; this very question +was being agitated at that moment in the room just over his head. +Miss Weyland, having passed the parlor portières with no +thought that her movements were attracting interest on the other +side of them, skipped up the stairs, rapped on her Aunt Jennie's +door, and ran breathlessly into the room. Her aunt was sitting by +the bureau, reading a novel from the circulating library. Though +she had been sitting right here since about four o'clock, only +getting up once to light the gas, she had a casual air like one who +is only killing a moment's time between important engagements. She +looked up at the girl's entrance, and an affectionate smile lit her +well-lined face.</p> +<p>"My dear Sharlee! I'm so glad to see you."</p> +<p>They kissed tenderly.</p> +<p>"Oh, Aunt Jennie, tell me! Is he—this man you telephoned +me about—is he a little, small, dried young man, with +spectacles and a brown derby, and needing a hair-cut, and the +gravest, drollest manner in the world? Tell me—is he?"</p> +<p>"My dear, you have described him to the life. Where did you see +him?"</p> +<p>Sharlee collapsed upon the bed. Presently she revived and +outlined the situation to Aunt Jennie.</p> +<p>Mrs. Paynter listened with some interest. If humor is a defect, +as they tell us nowadays, she was almost a faultless woman. And in +her day she had been a beauty and a toast. You hear it said +generously of a thousand, but it happened to be true in her case. +The high-bred regularity of feature still survived, but she had let +herself go in latter years, as most women will who have other +things than themselves to think about, and hard things at that. Her +old black dress was carelessly put on; she could look at herself in +the mirror by merely leaning forward an inch or two, and it never +occurred to her to do it—an uncanny thing in a woman.</p> +<p>"I'm sure it sounds quite like him," said Mrs. Paynter, when her +niece had finished. "And so Gardiner West walked around with you. I +hope, my dear, you asked him in to supper? We have an exceptionally +nice Porterhouse steak to-night. But I suppose he would +scorn—"</p> +<p>The girl interrupted her, abolishing and demolishing such a +thought. Mr. West would have been only too pleased, she said, but +she positively would not ask him, because of the serious work that +was afoot that night.</p> +<p>"The pleasure I've so far given your little man," laughed she, +patting her aunt's cheeks with her two hands, "has been +negligible—I have his word for that—and to-night it is +going to be the same, only more so."</p> +<p>Sharlee arose, took off her coat and furs, laid them on the bed, +and going to the bureau began fixing her hair in the back before +the long mirror. No matter how well a woman looks to the untrained, +or man's, eye, she can always put in some time pleasurably fixing +her hair in the back.</p> +<p>"Now," said Sharlee, "to business. Tell me all about the little +dead-beat."</p> +<p>"It is four weeks next Monday," said Mrs. Paynter, putting a +shoe-horn in her novel to mark the place, "since the young man came +to me. He was from New York, and just off the train. He said that +he had been recommended to my house, but would not say by whom, nor +could he give references. I did not insist on them, for I can't be +too strict, Sharlee, with all the other boarding-places there are +and that room standing empty for two months hand-running, and then +for three months before that, before Miss Catlett, I mean. The fact +is, that I ought to be over on the Avenue, where I could have only +the best people. It would be infinitely more lucrative—why, +my dear, you should hear Amy Marsden talk of her enormous profits! +And Amy, while a dear, sweet little woman, is not clever! I +remember as girls—but to go back even of that to the very +heart of the matter, who ever heard of a clever <i>Wilkerson</i>? +For she, you know, was born ..."</p> +<p>"Never you mind Mrs. Marsden, Aunt Jennie," said the girl, +gently drawing her back to the muttons,—"we'll make lots more +money than she some day. So you gave him the room, then?"</p> +<p>"Yes, the room known as the third hall back. A small, neat, +economical room, entirely suitable for a single gentleman. I gave +him my lowest price, though I must say I did not dream then that he +would spend all his time in his room, apparently having no downtown +occupation, which is certainly not what one expects from gentlemen, +who get low terms on the silent understanding that they will take +themselves out of the house directly after breakfast. +Nevertheless—will you believe it?—ten days passed and +not a word was said about payment. So one morning I stopped him in +the hall, as though for a pleasant talk. However, I was careful to +introduce the point, by means of an anecdote I told him, that +guests here were expected to pay by the week. Of course I supposed +that the hint would be sufficient."</p> +<p>"But it wasn't, alas?"</p> +<p>"On the contrary, ten days again passed, and you might suppose +there was no such thing as money in all this world. Then I resolved +to approach him directly. I knocked on his door, and when he opened +it, I told him plainly and in so many words that I would be very +much gratified if he would let me have a check whenever convenient, +as unfortunately I had heavy bills due that must be met. I was very +much mortified, Sharlee! As I stood there facing that young man, +dunning him like a grocer's clerk, it flashed into my mind to +wonder what your great-grandfather, the Governor, would think if he +could have looked down and seen me. For as you know, my dear, +though I doubt if you altogether realize it at all times, since our +young people of to-day, I regret to have to say it—though of +course I do except you from this criticism—"</p> +<p>By gentle interruption and deft transition, Sharlee once more +wafted the conversation back to the subject in hand.</p> +<p>"And when you went so far as to tell him this, how did he take +it?"</p> +<p>"He took it admirably. He told me that I need feel no concern +about the matter; that while out of funds for the moment, doubtless +he would be in funds again shortly. His manner was dignified, calm, +unabashed—"</p> +<p>"But it didn't blossom, as we might say, in money?"</p> +<p>"As to that—no. What are you to do, Sharlee? I feel sure +the man is not dishonest,—in fact he has a singularly honest +face, transparently so,—but he is only somehow queer. He +appears an engrossed, absent-minded young man—what is the +word I want?—an eccentric. That is what he is, an engrossed +young eccentric."</p> +<p>Sharlee leaned against the bureau and looked at her aunt +thoughtfully. "Do you gather, Aunt Jennie, that he's a +gentleman?"</p> +<p>Mrs. Paynter threw out her hands helplessly. "What does the term +mean nowadays? The race of gentlemen, as the class existed in my +day, seems to be disappearing from the face of the earth. We see +occasional survivals of the old order, like Gardiner West or the +young Byrd men, but as a whole—well, my dear, I will only say +that the modern standards would have excited horror fifty years ago +and—"</p> +<p>"Well, but according to the modern standards, do you think he +is?"</p> +<p>"I <i>don't</i> know. He is and he isn't. But +no—no—no! He is <i>not</i> one. No man can be a +gentleman who is utterly indifferent to the comfort and feelings of +others, do you think so?"</p> +<p>"Indeed, no! And is that what he is?"</p> +<p>"I will illustrate by an incident," said Mrs. Paynter. "As I +say, this young man spends his entire time in his room, where he +is, I believe, engaged in writing a book."</p> +<p>"Oh, me! Then he's penniless, depend upon it."</p> +<p>"Well, when we had the frost and freeze early last week, he came +to me one night and complained of the cold in his room. You know, +Sharlee, I do not rent that room as a sitting-room, nor do I expect +to heat it, at the low price, other than the heat from the halls. +So I invited him to make use of the dining-room in the evenings, +which, as you know, with the folding-doors drawn, and the yellow +lamp lit, is converted to all intents and purposes into a quiet and +comfortable reading-room. Somewhat grumblingly he went down. Fifi +was there as usual, doing her algebra by the lamp. The young man +took not the smallest notice of her, and presently when she coughed +several times—the child's cold happened to be bad that +night—he looked up sharply and asked her please to stop. Fifi +said that she was afraid she couldn't help it. He replied that it +was impossible for him to work in the room with a noise of that +sort, and either the noise or he would have to vacate. So Fifi +gathered up her things and left. I found her, half an hour later, +in her little bedroom, which was ice-cold, coughing and crying over +her sums, which she was trying to work at the bureau. That was how +I found out about it. The child would never have said a word to +me."</p> +<p>"How simply outrageous!" said the girl, and became silent and +thoughtful.</p> +<p>"Well, what do you think I'd better do, Sharlee?"</p> +<p>"I think you'd better let me waylay him in the hall after supper +and tell him that the time has come when he must either pay up or +pack up."</p> +<p>"My dear! Can you well be as blunt as that?"</p> +<p>"Dear Aunt Jennie, as I view it, you are not running an +eleemosynary institution here?"</p> +<p>"Of course not," replied Aunt Jennie, who really did not know +whether she was or not.</p> +<p>Sharlee dropped into a chair and began manicuring her pretty +little nails. "The purpose of this establishment is to collect +money from the transient and resident public. Now you're not a bit +good at collecting money because you're so well-bred, but I'm not +so awfully well-bred—"</p> +<p>"You <i>are</i>—"</p> +<p>"I'm bold—blunt—brazen! I'm forward. I'm resolute +and grim. In short, I belong to the younger generation which you +despise so—"</p> +<p>"I don't despise <i>you</i>, you dear—"</p> +<p>"Come," said Sharlee, springing up; "let's go down. I'm wild to +meet Mr. Bylash again. Is he wearing the moleskin vest to-night, do +you know? I was fascinated by it the last time I was here. Aunt +Jennie, what is the name of this young man—the one I may be +compelled to bounce?"</p> +<p>"His name is Queed. Did you ever—?"</p> +<p>"Queed? <i>Queed</i>? Q-u-e-e-d?"</p> +<p>"An odd name, isn't it? There were no such people in my +day."</p> +<p>"Probably after to-morrow there will be none such once +more."</p> +<p>"Mr. Klinker has christened him the little Doctor—a hit at +his appearance and studious habits, you see—and even the +servants have taken it up."</p> +<p>"Aunt Jennie," said Sharlee at the door, "when you introduce the +little Doctor to me, refer to me as your business woman, won't you? +Say 'This is my niece, Miss Weyland, who looks after my business +affairs for me,' or something like that, will you? It will explain +to him why I, a comparative stranger, show such an interest in his +financial affairs."</p> +<p>Mrs. Paynter said, "Certainly, my dear," and they went down, the +older lady disappearing toward the dining-room. In the parlor +Sharlee was greeted cordially and somewhat respectfully. Major +Brooke, who appeared to have taken an extra toddy in honor of her +coming, or for any other reason why, flung aside his newspaper and +seized both her hands. Mr. Bylash, in the moleskin waistcoat, sure +enough, bowed low and referred to her agreeably as "stranger," nor +did he again return to Miss Miller's side on the sofa. That young +lady was gay and giggling, but watchful withal. When Sharlee was +not looking, Miss Miller's eye, rather hard now, roved over her +ceaselessly from the point of her toe to the top of her feather. +What was the trick she had, the little way with her, that so +delightfully unlocked the gates of gentlemen's hearts?</p> +<p>At supper they were lively and gay. The butter and preserves +were in front of Sharlee, for her to help to; by her side sat Fifi, +the young daughter of the house. Major Brooke sat at the head of +the table and carved the Porterhouse, upon which when the eyes of +William Klinker fell, they irrepressibly shot forth gleams. At the +Major's right sat his wife, a pale, depressed, nervous woman, as +anybody who had lived thirty years with the gallant officer her +husband had a right to be. She was silent, but the Major talked a +great deal, not particularly well. Much the same may be said of Mr. +Bylash and Miss Miller. Across the table from Mrs. Brooke stood an +empty chair. It belonged to the little Doctor, Mr. Queed. Across +the table from Sharlee stood another. This one belonged to the old +professor, Nicolovius. When the meal was well along, Nicolovius +came in, bowed around the table in his usual formal way, and +silently took his place. While Sharlee liked everybody in the +boarding-house, including Miss Miller, Professor Nicolovius was the +only one of them that she considered at all interesting. This was +because of his strongly-cut face, like the grand-ducal villain in a +ten-twenty-thirty melodrama, and his habit of saying savage things +in a soft, purring voice. He was rude to everybody, and +particularly rude, so Sharlee thought, to her. As for the little +Doctor, he did not come in at all. Half-way through supper, Sharlee +looked at her aunt and gave a meaning glance at the empty seat.</p> +<p>"I don't know what to make of it," said Mrs. Paynter <i>sotto +voce</i>. "He's usually so regular."</p> +<p>To the third floor she dispatched the colored girl Emma, to +knock upon Mr. Queed's door. Presently Emma returned with the +report that she had knocked, but could obtain no answer.</p> +<p>"He's probably fallen asleep over his book," murmured Sharlee. +"I feel certain it's that kind of book."</p> +<p>But Mrs. Paynter said that he rarely slept, even at night.</p> +<p>"... Right on my own front porch, mind you!" Major Brooke was +declaiming. "And, gentlemen, I shook my finger in his face and +said, 'Sir, I never yet met a Republican who was not a rogue!' Yes, +sir, that is just what I told him—"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid," said Nicolovius, smoothly,—it was the only +word he uttered during the meal,—"your remark harrows Miss +Weyland with reminders of the late Mr. Surface."</p> +<p>The Major stopped short, and a silence fell over the table. It +was promptly broken by Mrs. Paynter, who invited Mrs. Brooke to +have a second cup of coffee. Sharlee looked at her plate and said +nothing. Everybody thought that the old professor's remark was in +bad taste, for it was generally known that Henry G. Surface was one +subject that even Miss Weyland's intimate friends never mentioned +to her. Nicolovius, however, appeared absolutely unconcerned by the +boarders' silent rebuke. He ate on, rapidly but abstemiously, and +finished before Mr. Bylash, who had had twenty minutes' start of +him.</p> +<p>The last boarder rising drew shut the folding-doors into the +parlor, while the ladies of the house remained to superintend and +assist in clearing off the supper things. The last boarder this +time was Mr. Bylash, who tried without success to catch Miss +Weyland's eye as he slid to the doors. He hung around in the parlor +waiting for her till 8.30, at which time, having neither seen nor +heard sign of her, he took Miss Miller out to the moving-picture +shows. In the dining-room, when Emma had trayed out the last of the +things, the ladies put away the unused silver, watered the +geranium, set back some of the chairs, folded up the white cloth, +placing it in the sideboard drawer, spread the pretty Turkey-red +one in its stead, set the reading lamp upon it; and just then the +clock struck eight.</p> +<p>"Now then," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>So the three sat down and held a council of war as to how little +Doctor Queed, the young man who wouldn't pay his board, was to be +brought into personal contact with Charlotte Lee Weyland, the grim +and resolute collector. Various stratagems were proposed, amid much +merriment. But the collector herself adhered to her original idea +of a masterly waiting game.</p> +<p>"Only trust me," said she. "He can't spend the rest of his life +shut up in that room in a state of dreadful siege. Hunger or thirst +will force him out; he'll want to buy some of those apples, or to +mail a letter—"</p> +<p>Fifi, who sat on the arm of Sharlee's chair, laughed and +coughed. "He never writes any. And he never has gotten but one, and +that came to-night."</p> +<p>"Fifi, did you take your syrup before supper? Well, go and take +it this minute."</p> +<p>"Mother, it doesn't do any good."</p> +<p>"The doctor gave it to you, my child, and it's going to make you +better soon."</p> +<p>Sharlee followed Fifi out with troubled eyes. However, Mrs. +Paynter at once drew her back to the matter in hand.</p> +<p>"Sharlee, do you know what would be the very way to settle this +little difficulty? To write him a formal, businesslike letter. +We'll—"</p> +<p>"No, I've thought of that, Aunt Jennie, and I don't believe it's +the way. A letter couldn't get to the bottom of the matter. You +see, we want to find out something about this man, and why he isn't +paying, and whether there is reason to think he can and will pay. +Besides, I think he needs a talking to on general principles."</p> +<p>"Well—but how are you going to do it, my dear?"</p> +<p>"Play a Fabian game. Wait!—be stealthy and wait! If he +doesn't come out of hiding to-night, I'll return for him to-morrow. +I'll keep on coming, night after night, night after night, +n—Some one's knocking—".</p> +<p>"Come in," said Mrs. Paynter, looking up.</p> +<p>The door leading into the hall opened, and the man himself stood +upon the threshold, looking at them absently.</p> +<p>"May I have some supper, Mrs. Paynter? I was closely engaged and +failed to notice the time."</p> +<p>Sharlee arose. "Certainly. I'll get you some at once," she +answered innocently enough. But to herself she was saying: "The +Lord has delivered him into my hand."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Encounter between Charlotte Lee Weyland, a Landlady's Agent, +and Doctor Queed, a Young Man who wouldn't pay his Board.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Sharlee glanced at Mrs. Paynter, who caught herself and said: +"Mr. Queed, my niece—Miss Weyland."</p> +<p>But over the odious phrase, "my business woman," her lips +boggled and balked; not to save her life could she bring herself to +damn her own niece with such an introduction.</p> +<p>Noticing the omission and looking through the reasons for it as +through window-glass, Sharlee smothered a laugh, and bowed. Mr. +Queed bowed, but did not laugh or even smile. He drew up a chair at +his usual place and sat down. As by an involuntary reflex, his left +hand dropped toward his coat-pocket, whence the top edges of a book +could be descried protruding. Mrs. Paynter moved vaguely toward +the door. As for her business woman, she made at once for the +kitchen, where Emma and her faithful co-worker and mother, Laura, +rose from their supper to assist her. With her own hands the girl +cut a piece of the Porterhouse for Mr. Queed. Creamed potatoes, two +large spoonfuls, were added; two rolls; some batterbread; coffee, +which had to be diluted with a little hot water to make out the +full cup; butter; damson preserves in a saucer: all of which duly +set forth and arranged on a shiny black "waiter."</p> +<p>"Enough for a whole platform of doctors," said Sharlee, +critically reviewing the spread. "Thank you, Emma."</p> +<p>She took the tray in both hands and pushed open the swing-doors +with her side, thus making her ingress to the dining-room in a sort +of crab-fashion. Mrs. Paynter was gone. Mr. Queed sat alone in the +dining-room. His book lay open on the table and he was humped over +it, hand in his hair.</p> +<p>Having set her tray on the side-table, Sharlee came to his side +with the plate of steak and potatoes. He did not stir, and +presently she murmured, "I beg your pardon."</p> +<p>He looked up half-startled, not seeming to take in for the first +second who or what she was.</p> +<p>"Oh ... yes."</p> +<p>He moved his book, keeping his finger in the place, and she set +down the plate. Next she brought the appurtenances one by one, the +butter, coffee, and so on. The old mahogany sideboard yielded +knife, fork, and spoon; salt and pepper; from the right-hand +drawer, a fresh napkin. These placed, she studied them, racked her +brains a moment and, from across the table—</p> +<p>"Is there anything else?"</p> +<p>Mr. Queed's eye swept over his equipment with intelligent +quickness. "A glass of water, please."</p> +<p>"Oh!—Certainly."</p> +<p>Sharlee poured a glass from the battered silver pitcher on the +side-table—the one that the Yankees threw out of the window +in May, 1862—and duly placed it. Mr. Queed was oblivious to +the little courtesy. By this time he had propped his book open +against the plate of rolls and was reading it between cuts on the +steak. Beside the plate he had laid his watch, an open-faced nickel +one about the size of a desk-clock.</p> +<p>"Do you think that is everything?"</p> +<p>"I believe that is all."</p> +<p>"Do you remember me?" then asked Sharlee.</p> +<p>He glanced at her briefly through his spectacles, his eyes soon +returning to his supper.</p> +<p>"I think not."</p> +<p>The girl smiled suddenly, all by herself. "It was my dog +that—upset you on Main Street this afternoon. You may +remember ...? I thought you seemed to—to limp a little when +you came in just now. I'm awfully sorry for +the—mishap—"</p> +<p>"It is of no consequence," he said, with some signs of unrest. +"I walk seldom. Your—pleasure-dog was uninjured, I +trust?"</p> +<p>"Thank you. He was never better."</p> +<p>That the appearance of the pleasure-dog's owner as a familiar of +his boarding-house piqued his curiosity not the slightest was only +too evident. He bowed, his eyes returning from steak to book.</p> +<p>"I am obliged to you for getting my supper."</p> +<p>If he had said, "Will you kindly go?" his meaning could hardly +have been more unmistakable. However, Mrs. Paynter's resolute agent +held her ground. Taking advantage of his gross absorption, she now +looked the delinquent boarder over with some care. At first glance +Mr. Queed looked as if he might have been born in a library, where +he had unaspiringly settled down. To support this impression there +were his pallid complexion and enormous round spectacles; his dusty +air of premature age; his general effect of dried-up detachment +from his environment. One noted, too, the tousled mass of +nondescript hair, which he wore about a month too long; the +necktie-band triumphing over the collar in the back; the collar +itself, which had a kind of celluloid look and shone with a blue +unwholesome sheen under the gas-light. On the other hand there was +the undeniably trim cut of the face, which gave an unexpected and +contradictory air of briskness. The nose was bold; the long +straight mouth might have belonged to a man of action. Probably the +great spectacles were the turning-point in the man's whole effect. +You felt that if you could get your hands on him long enough to +pull those off, and cut his hair, you might have an individual who +would not so surely have been christened the little Doctor.</p> +<p>These details the agent gathered at her leisure. Meantime here +was the situation, stark and plain; and she, and she alone, must +handle it. She must tell this young man, so frankly engrossed in +his mental and material food, which he ate by his watch, that he +must fork over four times seven-fifty or vacate the premises.... +Yes, but how to do it? He could not be much older than she herself, +but his manner was the most impervious, the most impossible that +she had ever seen. "I'm grim and I'm resolute," she said over to +herself; but the splendid defiance of the motto failed to quicken +her blood. Not even the recollection of the month's sponge for +board and the house-rent due next week spurred her to action. Then +she thought of Fifi, whom Mr. Queed had packed off sobbing for his +good pleasure, and her resolution hardened.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I must interrupt your reading for a moment," she +said quietly. "There is something I want to say...."</p> +<p>He glanced up for the second time. There was surprise and some +vexation in the eyes behind his circular glasses, but no sign of +any interest.</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"When my aunt introduced you to me just now she did +not—did not identify me as she should—"</p> +<p>"Really, does it make any difference?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I think it does. You see, I am not only her niece, but her +business woman, her agent, as well. She isn't very good at +business, but still she has a good deal of it to be done. She runs +this boarding-place, and people of various kinds come to her and +she takes them into her house. Many of these people are entirely +unknown to her. In this way trouble sometimes arises. For instance +people come now and then who—how shall I put it?—are +very reserved about making their board-payments. My aunt hardly +knows how to deal with them—"</p> +<p>He interrupted her with a gesture and a glance at his watch. "It +always seems to me an unnecessary waste of time not to be direct. +You have called to collect my arrearage for board?"</p> +<p>"Well, yes. I have."</p> +<p>"Please tell your aunt that when I told her to give herself no +concern about that matter, I exactly meant what I said. To-night I +received funds through the mail; the sum, twenty dollars. Your +aunt," said he, obviously ready to return to his reading matter, +"shall have it all."</p> +<p>But Sharlee had heard delinquent young men talk like that +before, and her business platform in these cases was to be +introduced to their funds direct.</p> +<p>"That would cut down the account nicely," said she, looking at +him pleasantly, but a shade too hard to imply a beautiful trust. +She went on much like the firm young lady enumerators who take the +census: "By the way—let me ask: Have you any regular business +or occupation?"</p> +<p>"Not, I suppose, in the sense in which you mean the +interrogation."</p> +<p>"Perhaps you have friends in the city, who—"</p> +<p>"Friends! Here! Good Lord—<i>no!</i>" said he, with +exasperated vehemence.</p> +<p>"I gather," was surprised from her, "that you do not +wish—"</p> +<p>"They are the last thing in the world that I desire. My +experience in that direction in New York quite sufficed me, I +assure you. I came here," said he, with rather too blunt an +implication, "to be let alone."</p> +<p>"I was thinking of references, you know. You have friends in New +York, then?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I have two. But I doubt if you would regard them as +serviceable for references. The best of them is only a policeman; +the other is a yeggman by trade—his brother, by the way."</p> +<p>She was silent a moment, wondering if he were telling the truth, +and deciding what to say next. The young man used the silence to +bolt his coffee at a gulp and go hurriedly but deeply into the +preserves.</p> +<p>"My aunt will be glad that you can make a remittance to-night. I +will take it to her for you with pleasure."</p> +<p>"Oh!—All right."</p> +<p>He put his hand into his outer breast-pocket, pulled out an +envelope, and absently pitched it across the table. She looked at +it and saw that it was postmarked the city and bore a typewritten +address.</p> +<p>"Am I to open this?"</p> +<p>"Oh, as you like," said he, and, removing the spoon, turned a +page.</p> +<p>The agent picked up the envelope with anticipations of helpful +clues. It was her business to find out everything that she could +about Mr. Queed. A determinedly moneyless, friendless, and +vocationless young man could not daily stretch his limbs under her +aunt's table and retain the Third Hall Back against more +compensatory guests. But the letter proved a grievous +disappointment to her. Inside was a folded sheet of cheap white +paper, apparently torn from a pad. Inside the sheet was a new +twenty-dollar bill. That was all. Apart from the address, there was +no writing anywhere.</p> +<p>Yet the crisp greenback, incognito though it came, indubitably +suggested that Mr. Queed was not an entire stranger to the science +of money-making.</p> +<p>"Ah," said the agent, insinuatingly, "evidently you have +<i>some</i> occupation, after all—of—of a productive +sort...."</p> +<p>He looked up again with that same air of vexed surprise, as much +as to say: "What! You still hanging around!"</p> +<p>"I don't follow you, I fear."</p> +<p>"I assume that this money comes to you in payment for +some—work you have done—"</p> +<p>"It is an assumption, certainly."</p> +<p>"You can appreciate, perhaps, that I am not idly inquisitive. I +shouldn't—"</p> +<p>"What is it that you wish to know?"</p> +<p>"As to this money—"</p> +<p>"Really, you know as much about it as I do. It came exactly as I +handed it to you: the envelope, the blank paper, and the bill."</p> +<p>"But you know, of course, where it comes from?"</p> +<p>"I can't say I do. Evidently," said Mr. Queed, "it is intended +as a gift."</p> +<p>"Then—perhaps you have a good friend here after all? Some +one who has guessed—"</p> +<p>"I think I told you that I have but two friends, and I know for +a certainty that they are both in New York. Besides, neither of +them would give me twenty dollars."</p> +<p>"But—but—but," said the girl, laughing through her +utter bewilderment—"aren't you interested to know who +<i>did</i> give it to you? Aren't you <i>curious?</i> I assure you +that in this city it's not a bit usual to get money through the +mails from anonymous admirers—"</p> +<p>"Nor did I say that this was a usual case. I told you that I +didn't <i>know</i> who sent me this."</p> +<p>"Exactly—"</p> +<p>"But I have an idea. I think my father sent it."</p> +<p>"Oh! Your father ..."</p> +<p>So he had a father, an eccentric but well-to-do father, who, +though not a friend, yet sent in twenty dollars now and then to +relieve his son's necessities. Sharlee felt her heart rising.</p> +<p>"Don't think me merely prying. You see I am naturally interested +in the question of whether you—will find yourself able to +stay on here—"</p> +<p>"You refer to my ability to make my board payments?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Throughout this dialogue, Mr. Queed had been eating, steadily +and effectively. Now he slid his knife and fork into place with a +pained glance at his watch; and simultaneously a change came over +his face, a kind of tightening, shot through with Christian +fortitude, which plainly advertised an unwelcome resolution.</p> +<p>"My supper allowance of time," he began warningly, "is +practically up. However, I suppose the definite settlement of this +board question cannot be postponed further. I must not leave you +under any misapprehensions. If this money came from my father, it +is the first I ever had from him in my life. Whether I am to get +any more from him is problematical, to say the least. Due +consideration must be given the fact that he and I have never +met."</p> +<p>"Oh!... Does—he live here, in the city?"</p> +<p>"I have some reason to believe that he does. It is indeed," Mr. +Queed set forth to his landlady's agent, "because of that belief +that I have come here. I have assumed, with good grounds, that he +would promptly make himself known to me, take charge of things, and +pay my board; but though I have been here nearly a month, he has so +far made not the slightest move in that direction, unless we count +this letter. Possibly he leaves it to me to find him, but I, on my +part, have no time to spare for any such undertaking. I make the +situation clear to you? Under the circumstances I cannot promise +you a steady revenue from my father. On the other hand, for all +that I know, it may be his plan to send me money regularly after +this."</p> +<p>There was a brief pause. "But—apart from the money +consideration—have you no interest in finding him?"</p> +<p>"Oh—if that is all one asks! But it happens not to be a +mere question of my personal whim. Possibly you can appreciate the +fact that finding a father is a tremendous task when you have no +idea where he lives, or what he looks like, or what name he may be +using. My time is wholly absorbed by my own work. I have none to +give to a wild-goose chase such as that, on the mere chance that, +if found, he would agree to pay my board for the future."</p> +<p>If he had been less in earnest he would have been grotesque. As +it was, Sharlee was by no means sure that he escaped it; and she +could not keep a controversial note out of her voice as she +said:—</p> +<p>"Yours must be a very great work to make you view the finding of +your father in that way."</p> +<p>"The greatest in the world," he answered, drily. "I may call it, +loosely, evolutionary sociology."</p> +<p>She was so silent after this, and her expression was so +peculiar, that he concluded that his words conveyed nothing to +her.</p> +<p>"The science," he added kindly, "which treats of the origin, +nature, and history of human society; analyzes the relations of men +in organized communities; formulates the law or laws of social +progress and permanence; and correctly applies these laws to the +evolutionary development of human civilization."</p> +<p>"I am familiar with the terms. And your ambition is to become a +great evolutionary sociologist?"</p> +<p>He smiled faintly. "To become one?"</p> +<p>"Oh! Then you are one already?"</p> +<p>For answer, Mr. Queed dipped his hand into his inner pocket, +produced a large wallet, and from a mass of papers selected a +second envelope.</p> +<p>"You mention references. Possibly these will impress you as even +better than friends."</p> +<p>Sharlee, seated on the arm of Major Brooke's chair, ran through +the clippings: two advertisements of a well-known "heavy" review +announcing articles by Mr. Queed; a table of contents torn from a +year-old number of the <i>Political Science Quarterly</i> to the +same effect; an editorial from a New York newspaper commenting on +one of these articles and speaking laudatorily of its author; a +private letter from the editor of the "heavy" urging Mr. Queed to +write another article on a specified subject, "Sociology and +Socialism."</p> +<p>To Sharlee the exhibit seemed surprisingly formidable, but the +wonder in her eyes was not at that. Her marvel was for the fact +that the man who was capable of so cruelly elbowing little Fifi out +of his way should be counted a follower of the tenderest and most +human of sciences.</p> +<p>"They impress me," she said, returning his envelope; "but not as +better than friends."</p> +<p>"Ah? A matter of taste. Now—"</p> +<p>"I had always supposed," continued the girl, looking at him, +"that sociology had a close relation with life—in fact, that +it was based on a conscious recognition of—the brotherhood of +man."</p> +<p>"Your supposition is doubtless sound, though you express it so +loosely."</p> +<p>"Yet you feel that the sociologist has no such relation?"</p> +<p>He glanced up sharply. At the subtly hostile look in her eyes, +his expression became, for the first time, a little interested.</p> +<p>"How do you deduce that?"</p> +<p>"Oh!... It is loose, if you like—but I deduce it from what +you have said—and implied—about your father +and—having friends."</p> +<p>But what she thought of, most of all, was the case of Fifi.</p> +<p>She stood across the table, facing him, looking down at him; and +there was a faintly heightened color in her cheeks. Her eyes were +the clearest lapis lazuli, heavily fringed with lashes which were +blacker than Egypt's night. Her chin was finely and strongly cut; +almost a masculine chin, but unmasculinely softened by the +sweetness of her mouth.</p> +<p>Mr. Queed eyed her with some impatience through his round +spectacles.</p> +<p>"You apparently jumble together the theory and what you take to +be the application of a science in the attempt to make an +impossible unit. Hence your curious confusion. Theory and +application are as totally distinct as the poles. The few must +discover for the many to use. My own task—since the matter +appears to interest you—is to work out the laws of human +society for those who come after to practice and apply."</p> +<p>"And suppose those who come after feel the same unwillingness to +practice and apply that you, let us say, feel?"</p> +<p>"It becomes the business of government to persuade them."</p> +<p>"And if government shirks also? What is government but the +common expression of masses of individuals very much like +yourself?"</p> +<p>"There you return, you see, to your fundamental error. There are +very few individuals in the least like me. I happen to be writing a +book of great importance, not to myself merely, but to posterity. +If I fail to finish my book, if I am delayed in finishing it, I can +hardly doubt that the world will be the loser. This is not a task +like organizing a prolonged search for one's father, or dawdling +with friends, which a million men can do equally well. I alone can +write my book. Perhaps you now grasp my duty of concentrating all +my time and energy on this single work and ruthlessly eliminating +whatever interferes with it."</p> +<p>The girl found his incredible egoism at once amusing and +extremely exasperating.</p> +<p>"Have you ever thought," she asked, "that thousands of other +self-absorbed men have considered their own particular work of +supreme importance, and that most of them have +been—mistaken?"</p> +<p>"Really I have nothing to do with other men's mistakes. I am +responsible only for my own."</p> +<p>"And that is why it is a temptation to suggest that conceivably +you had made one here."</p> +<p>"But you find difficulty in suggesting such a thought +convincingly? That is because I have not conceivably made any such +mistake. A Harvey must discover the theory of the circulation of +the blood; it is the business of lesser men to apply the discovery +to practical ends. It takes a Whitney to invent the cotton gin, but +the dullest negro roustabout can operate it. Why multiply +illustrations of a truism? Theory, you perceive, calls for other +and higher gifts than application. The man who can formulate the +eternal laws of social evolution can safely leave it to others to +put his laws into practice."</p> +<p>Sharlee gazed at him in silence, and he returned her gaze, his +face wearing a look of the rankest complacence that she had ever +seen upon a human countenance. But all at once his eyes fell upon +his watch, and his brow clouded.</p> +<p>"Meantime," he went on abruptly, "there remains the question of +my board."</p> +<p>"Yes.... Do I understand that you—derive your living from +these social laws that you write up for others to practice?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no—impossible! There is no living to be made there. +When my book comes out there may be a different story, but that is +two years and ten months off. Every minute taken from it for the +making of money is, as you may now understand, decidedly +unfortunate. Still," he added depressedly, "I must arrange to earn +something, I suppose, since my father's assistance is so +problematical. I worked for money in New York, for awhile."</p> +<p>"Oh—did you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I helped a lady write a thesaurus."</p> +<p>"Oh...."</p> +<p>"It was a mere fad with her. I virtually wrote the work for her +and charged her five dollars an hour." He looked at her narrowly. +"Do you happen to know of any one here who wants work of that sort +done?"</p> +<p>The agent did not answer. By a series of covert glances she had +been trying to learn, upside down, what it was that Mr. Queed was +reading. "Sociology," she had easily picked out, but the chapter +heading, on the opposite page, was more troublesome, and, deeply +absorbed, she had now just succeeded in deciphering it. The +particular division of his subject in which Mr. Queed was so much +engrossed was called "Man's Duty to His Neighbors."</p> +<p>Struck by the silence, Sharlee looked up with a small start, and +the faintest possible blush. "I beg your pardon?"</p> +<p>"I asked if you knew of any lady here, a wealthy one, who would +like to write a thesaurus as a fad."</p> +<p>The girl was obliged to admit that, at the moment, she could +think of no such person. But her mind fastened at once on the +vulgar, hopeful fact that the unsocial sociolologist wanted a +job.</p> +<p>"That's unfortunate," said Mr. Queed. "I suppose I must accept a +little regular, very remunerative work—to settle this board +question once and for all. An hour or two a day, at most. However, +it is not easy to lay one's hand on such work in a strange +city."</p> +<p>"Perhaps," said Miss Weyland slowly, "I can help you."</p> +<p>"I'm sure I hope so," said he with another flying glance at his +watch. "That is what I have been approaching for seven +minutes."</p> +<p>"Don't you always find it an unnecessary waste of time not to be +direct?"</p> +<p>He sat, slightly frowning, impatiently fingering the pages of +his book. The hit bounded off him like a rubber ball thrown against +the Great Wall of China.</p> +<p>"Well?" he demanded. "What have you to propose?"</p> +<p>The agent sat down in a chair across the table, William +Klinker's chair, and rested her chin upon her shapely little hand. +The other shapely little hand toyed with the crisp twenty dollar +bill, employing it to trace geometric designs upon the colored +table-cloth. Mr. Queed had occasion to consult his watch again +before she raised her head.</p> +<p>"I propose," she said, "that you apply for some special +editorial work on the <i>Post</i>."</p> +<p>"The <i>Post</i>? The <i>Post</i>? The morning newspaper +here?"</p> +<p>"One of them."</p> +<p>He laughed, actually laughed. It was a curious, slow laugh, +betraying that the muscles which accomplished it were flabby for +want of exercise.</p> +<p>"And who writes the editorials on the <i>Post</i> now?"</p> +<p>"A gentleman named Colonel Cowles—"</p> +<p>"Ah! His articles on taxation read as if they might have been +written by a military man. I happened to read one the day before +yesterday. It was most amusing—"</p> +<p>"Excuse me. Colonel Cowles is a friend of mine—"</p> +<p>"What has that got to do with his political economy? If he is +your friend, then I should say that you have a most amusing +friend."</p> +<p>Sharlee rose, decidedly irritated. "Well—that is my +suggestion. I believe you will find it worth thinking over, +Good-night."</p> +<p>"The <i>Post</i> pays its contributors well, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"That you would have to take up with its owners."</p> +<p>"Clearly the paper needs the services of an expert—though, +of course, I could not give it much time, only enough to pay for my +keep. The suggestion is not a bad one—not at all. As to +applying, as you call it, is this amiable Colonel Cowles the person +to be seen?"</p> +<p>"Yes. No—wait a minute." She had halted in her progress to +the door; her mind's eye conjured up a probable interview between +the Colonel and the scientist, and she hardly had the heart to let +it go at that. Moreover, she earnestly wished, for Mrs. Paynter's +reasons, that the tenant of the third hall back should become +associated with the pay-envelope system of the city. "Listen," she +went on. "I know one of the directors of the <i>Post</i>, and shall +be glad to speak to him in your behalf. Then, if there is an +opening, I'll send you, through my aunt, a card of introduction to +him and you can go to see him."</p> +<p>"Couldn't he come to see me? I am enormously busy."</p> +<p>"So is he. I doubt if you could expect him to—"</p> +<p>"H'm. Very well. I am obliged to you for your suggestion. Of +course I shall take no step in the matter until I hear from +you."</p> +<p>"Good-evening," said the agent, icily.</p> +<p>He bowed slightly in answer to the salute, uttering no further +word; for him the interview ended right there, cleanly and +satisfactorily. From the door the girl glanced back. Mr. Queed had +drawn his heavy book before him, pencil in hand, and was once more +engrossed in the study and annotation of "Man's Duty to His +Neighbors."</p> +<p>In the hall Sharlee met Fifi, who was tipping toward the +dining-room to discover, by the frank method of ear and keyhole, +how the grim and resolute collector was faring.</p> +<p>"You're still alive, Sharlee! Any luck?"</p> +<p>"The finest in the world, darling! Twenty dollars in the hand +and a remunerative job for him in the bush."</p> +<p>Fifi did a few steps of a minuet. "Hooray!" said she in her weak +little voice.</p> +<p>Sharlee put her arms around the child's neck and said in her +ear: "Fifi, be very gentle with that young man. He's the most +pitiful little creature I ever saw."</p> +<p>"Why," said Fifi, "I don't think he feels that way at +all—"</p> +<p>"Don't you see that's just what makes him so infinitely +pathetic? He's the saddest little man in the world, and it has +never dawned on him."</p> +<p>It was not till some hours later, when she was making ready for +bed in her own room, that it occurred to Sharlee that there was +something odd in this advice to her little cousin. For she had +started out with the intention to tell Mr. Queed that he must be +very gentle with Fifi.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Relating how Two Stars in their Courses fought for Mr. Queed; +and how he accepted Remunerative Employment under Colonel Cowles, +the Military Political Economist.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The stars in their courses fought for Mr. Queed in those days. +Somebody had to fight for him, it seemed, since he was so little +equipped to fight for himself, and the stars kindly undertook the +assignment. Not merely had he attracted the militant services of +the bright little celestial body whose earthly agent was Miss +Charlotte Lee Weyland; but this little body chanced to be one of a +system or galaxy, associated with and exercising a certain power, +akin to gravitation, over that strong and steady planet known among +men as Charles Gardiner West. And the very next day, the back of +the morning's mail being broken, the little star used some of its +power to draw the great planet to the telephone, while feeling, in +a most unstellar way, that it was a decidedly cheeky thing to do. +However, nothing could have exceeded the charming radiance of +Planet West, and it was he himself who introduced the topic of Mr. +Queed, by inquiring, in mundane language, whether or not he had +been fired.</p> +<p>"No!" laughed the star. "Instead of firing him, I'm now bent on +<i>hiring</i> him. Oh, you'd better not laugh! It's to you I want +to hire him!"</p> +<p>But at that the shining Planet laughed the more.</p> +<p>"What have I done to be worthy of this distinction? Also, what +can I do with him? To paraphrase his own inimitable remark about +your dog, what is the object of a man like that? What is he +for?"</p> +<p>Sharlee dilated on the renown of Mr. Queed as a writer upon +abstruse themes. Mr. West was not merely agreeable; he was +interested. It seemed that at the very last meeting of the +<i>Post</i> directors—to which body Mr. West had been elected +at the stockholders' meeting last June—it had been decided +that Colonel Cowles should have a little help in the editorial +department. The work was growing; the Colonel was ageing. The point +had been to find the help. Who knew but what this little highbrow +was the very man they were looking for?</p> +<p>"I'll call on him—at your aunt's, shall I?—to-day if +I can. Why, not a bit of it! The thanks are quite the other way. He +may turn out another Charles A. Dana, cleverly disguised. When are +you going to have another half-holiday up there?"</p> +<p>Sharlee left the telephone thinking that Mr. West was quite the +nicest man she knew. Ninety-nine men out of a hundred, in his +position, would have said, "Send him to see me." Mr. West had said, +"I'll call on him at your aunt's," and had absolutely refused to +pose as the gracious dispenser of patronage. However, a great many +people shared Sharlee's opinion of Charles Gardiner West. One of +them walked into his office at that very moment, also petitioning +for something, and West received him with just that same unaffected +pleasantness of manner which everybody found so agreeable. But this +one's business, as it happened, completely knocked from Mr. West's +head the matter of Mr. Queed. In fact, he never gave it another +thought. The following night he went to New York with a little +party of friends, chiefly on pleasure bent; and, having no +particularly frugal mind, permitted himself a very happy day or so +in the metropolis. Hence it happened that Sharlee, learning from +her aunt that no Post directors had called forcing remunerative +work on Mr. Queed, made it convenient, about five days after the +telephone conversation, to meet Mr. West upon the street, quite by +accident. Any girl can tell you how it is done.</p> +<p>"Oh, by the way," she said in the most casual way, "shall I send +my little Doctor Queed to call upon you some day?"</p> +<p>West was agreeably contrite; abused himself for a shiftless +lackwit who was slated for an unwept grave; promised to call that +very day; and, making a memorandum the instant he got back to the +office, this time did not fail to keep his word.</p> +<p>Not that Mr. Queed had been inconvenienced by the little delay. +The minute after his landlady's agent left him, he had become +immersed in that great work of his, and there by day and night, he +had remained. Having turned over to the agent the full +responsibility for finding work for him, he no longer had to bother +his head about it. The whole matter dropped gloriously from his +mind; he read, wrote, and avoided practicing sociology with +tremendous industry; and thus he might have gone on for no one +knows how long had there not, at five o'clock on the fifth day, +come a knock upon his door.</p> +<p>"Well?" he called, annoyed.</p> +<p>Emma came in with a card. The name, at which the young man +barely glanced, conveyed nothing to him.</p> +<p>"Well? What does he want?"</p> +<p>Emma did not know.</p> +<p>"Oh!" said Mr. Queed, irritably—"tell him to come up, if +he must."</p> +<p>The <i>Post</i> director came up—two flights; he knocked; +was curtly bidden to enter; did so.</p> +<p>He stepped into one of the smallest rooms he had ever seen in +his life; about nine by five-and-a-half, he thought. A tiny single +bed ran along one side of it; jammed against the foot of the bed +was a tiny table. A tiny chair stood at the table; behind the chair +stood a tiny bureau; beside the bureau, the tiniest little iron +wash-stand in the world. In the chair sat a man, not tiny, indeed, +but certainly nobody's prize giant. He sat in a kind of whirling +tempest of books and papers, and he rode absorbedly in the +whirlwind and majestically directed the storm.</p> +<p>West was intensely interested. "Mr. Queed?" he asked, from just +inside the door.</p> +<p>"Yes," said the other, not looking up. "What can I do for +you?"</p> +<p>West burst out laughing; he couldn't help it.</p> +<p>"Maybe you can do a great deal, Mr. Queed. On the other hand +maybe I can do some little trifle for you. Which leg the boot is on +nobody on earth can say at this juncture. I have ventured to call," +said he, "as an ambassador from the morning <i>Post</i> of this +city."</p> +<p>"The <i>Post</i>?"</p> +<p>The name instantly started Queed's memory to working; he +recalled something about the <i>Post</i>—as yet, so it +happened, only the copy of it he had read; and he turned and looked +around with slow professorial amusement kindling in his eyes.</p> +<p>"Ah!" said he. "Possibly you are Colonel Cowles, the military +political economist?"</p> +<p>West was more amused than ever. "No," said he, "on the contrary, +West is the name, C.G. West—to correspond, you know, with the +one on that card you have in your hand. I'll sit down here on the +bed—shall I?—so that we can talk more comfortably. +Sitting does help the flow of ideas so remarkably, don't you find? +I am trespassing on your time," said he, "at the suggestion +of—an acquaintance of yours, who has been telling me great +things about your work."</p> +<p>Queed looked completely puzzled.</p> +<p>"The <i>Post</i>, Mr. Queed," went on West agreeably, "is always +looking for men who can do exceptional work. Therefore, I have come +to consider with you whether we might not make an arrangement to +our mutual advantage."</p> +<p>At that the whole thing came back to the young man. He had +agreed to take light remunerative work to pay his board, and now +the day of reckoning was at hand. His heart grew heavy within +him.</p> +<p>"Well," said he, exactly as he had said to the agent, "what have +you to propose?"</p> +<p>"I thought of proposing, first, that you give me some idea of +what you have done and can do on lines useful for a daily +newspaper. How does that method of procedure strike you?"</p> +<p>Queed produced his celebrated envelope of clippings. Also he +hunted up one or two stray cuttings which proved to be editorials +he had written on assignment, for a New York newspaper. West ran +through them with intelligent quickness.</p> +<p>"I say! These are rather fine, you know. This article on the +income tax now—just right!—just the sort of thing!"</p> +<p>Queed sat with his hand clamped on his head, which was aching +rather badly, as indeed it did about three fourths of the time.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes," he said wearily.</p> +<p>"I take off my hat to you!" added West presently. "You're rather +out of my depth here, but at least I know enough political economy +to know what is good."</p> +<p>He looked at Queed, smiling, very good-humored and gay, and +Queed looked back at him, not very good-humored and anything but +gay. Doubtless it would have surprised the young Doctor very much +to know that West was feeling sorry for him just then, for at that +moment he was feeling sorry for West.</p> +<p>"Now look here," said West.</p> +<p>He explained how the <i>Post</i> desired a man to write +sleep-inducing fillers—"occasional articles of weight and +authority" was the way he put it—and wanted to know if such +an opening would interest Mr. Queed. Queed said he supposed so, +provided the <i>Post</i> took little of his time and paid his board +in return for it. West had no doubt that everything could be +satisfactorily arranged.</p> +<p>"Colonel Cowles is the man who hires and fires," he explained. +"Go to see him in a day or two, will you? Meantime, I'll tell him +all about you."</p> +<p>Presently West smiled himself out, leaving Queed decidedly +relieved at the brief reprieve. He had been harried by the fear +that his visitor would insist on his stopping to produce an article +or so while he waited. However, the time had come when the +inevitable had to be faced. His golden privacy must be ravished for +the grim god of bread and meat. The next afternoon he put on his +hat with a bad grace, and went forth to seek Colonel Cowles, +editor-in-chief of the leading paper in the State.</p> +<p>The morning <i>Post</i> was an old paper, which had been in the +hands of a single family from A.D. 1846 till only the other day. It +had been a power during the war, a favorite mouthpiece of President +Davis. It had stood like a wall during the cruelties of +Reconstruction; had fought the good fight for white man's rule; had +crucified carpet-baggism and scalawaggery upon a cross of burning +adjective. Later it had labored gallantly for Tilden; denounced +Hayes as a robber; idolized Cleveland; preached free trade with +pure passion; swallowed free silver; stood "regular," though not +without grimaces, through Bryanism. The <i>Post</i> was, in short, +a paper with an honorable history, and everybody felt a kind of +affection for it. The plain fact remained, however, that within +recent years a great many worthy persons had acquired the habit of +reading the more hustling <i>State</i>.</p> +<p>The <i>Post</i>, not to put too fine a point upon it, had for a +time run fast to seed. The third generation of its owners had lost +their money, mostly in land speculations in the suburbs of New York +City, and in the State of Oregon. You could have thrown a brick +from their office windows and hit far better land speculations, but +they had the common fault of believing that things far away from +home are necessarily and always the best. The demand rose for +bigger, fatter newspapers, with comic sections and plenty of purple +ink, and the <i>Post's</i> owners found themselves unable to supply +it. In fact they had to retort by mortgaging their property to the +hilt and cutting expenses to rock-bottom. These were dark days for +the <i>Post</i>. That it managed to survive them at all was due +chiefly to the personality of Colonel Cowles, who, though doubtless +laughable as a political economist, was yet considered to have his +good points. But the Hercules-labor grew too heavy even for him, +and the paper was headed straight for the auctioneer's block when +new interests suddenly stepped in and bought it. These interests, +consisting largely of progressive men of the younger generation, +thoroughly overhauled and reorganized the property, laid in the +needed purple ink, and were now gradually driving the old paper +back to the dividend-paying point again.</p> +<p>Colonel Cowles, whose services had, of course, been retained, +was of the old school of journalism, editor and manager, too. Very +little went into the <i>Post</i> that he had not personally +viséd in the proof: forty galleys a night were child's play +to him. Managing editor there was none but himself; the city editor +was his mere office-boy and mouthpiece; even the august business +manager, who mingled with great advertisers on equal terms, was +known to take orders from him. In addition the Colonel wrote three +columns of editorials every day. Of these editorials it is enough +to say at this point that there were people who liked them.</p> +<p>Toward this dominant personality, the reluctant applicant for +work now made his way. He cut an absent-minded figure upon the +street, did Mr. Queed, but this time he made his crossings without +mishap. Undisturbed by dogs, he landed at the <i>Post</i> building, +and in time blundered into a room described as "Editorial" on the +glass-door. A friendly young girl sitting there, pounding away on a +typewriter, referred him to the next office, and the young man, +opening the connecting door without knocking, passed inside.</p> +<p>A full-bodied, gray-headed, gray-mustached man sat in his +shirt-sleeves behind a great table, writing with a very black +pencil in a large sprawling hand. He glanced up as the door +opened.</p> +<p>"Colonel Cowles?"</p> +<p>"I am the man, sir. How may I serve you?"</p> +<p>Queed laid on the table the card West had given him with a +pencilled line of introduction.</p> +<p>"Oh—Mr. Queed! Certainly—certainly. Sit down, sir. I +have been expecting you.—Let me get those papers out of your +way."</p> +<p>Colonel Cowles had a heavy jaw and rather too rubicund a +complexion. He looked as if apoplexy would get him some day. +However, his head was like a lion's of the tribe of Judah; his eye +was kindly; his manner dignified, courteous, and charming. Queed +had decided not to set the Colonel right in his views on taxation; +it would mean only a useless discussion which would take time. To +the older gentleman's polite inquiries relative to his impressions +of the city and so forth, he for the same reason gave the briefest +possible replies. But the Colonel, no apostle of the doctrine that +time is far more than money, went off into a long monologue, kindly +designed to give the young stranger some idea of his new +surroundings and atmosphere.</p> +<p>"... Look out there, sir. It is like that all day long—a +double stream of people always pouring by. I have looked out of +these windows for twenty-five years, and it was very different in +the old days. I remember when the cows used to come tinkling down +around that corner at milking-time. A twelve-story office building +will rise there before another year. We have here the finest city +and the finest State in the Union. You come to them, sir, at a time +of exceptional interest. We are changing fast, leaping forward very +fast. I do not hold with those who take all change to be progress, +but God grant that our feet are set in the right path. No section +of the country is moving more rapidly, or, as I believe, with all +our faults, to better ends than this. My own eyes have seen from +these windows a broken town, stagnant in trade and population and +rich only in memories, transform itself into the splendid thriving +city you see before you. Our faces, too long turned backward, are +set at last toward the future. From one end of the State to another +the spirit of honorable progress is throbbing through our people. +We have revolutionized and vastly improved our school system. We +have wearied of mud-holes and are laying the foundations of a +network of splendid roads. We are doing wonders for the public +health. Our farmers are learning to practice the new +agriculture—with plenty of lime, sir, plenty of lime. They +grasp the fact that corn at a hundred bushels to the acre is no +dream, but the most vital of realities. Our young men who a +generation ago left us for the irrigated lands of your Northwest, +are at last understanding that the finest farmlands in the country +are at their doors for half the price. With all these changes has +come a growing independence in political thought. The old +catchwords and bogies have lost their power. We no longer think +that whatever wears the Democratic tag is necessarily right. We no +longer measure every Republican by Henry G. Surface. We no longer +..."</p> +<p>Queed, somewhat interested in spite of himself, and tolerably +familiar with history, interrupted to ask who Henry G. Surface +might be. The question brought the Colonel up with a jolt.</p> +<p>"Ah, well," said he presently, with a wave of his hand, "you +will hear that story soon enough." He was silent a moment, and then +added, sadly and somewhat sternly: "Young man, I have reserved one +count in the total, the biggest and best, for the last. Keep your +ear and eye open—and I mean the inner ear and eye as well as +the outer—keep your mind open, above all keep your heart +open, and it will be given you to understand that we have here the +bravest, the sweetest, and the kindliest people in the world. The +Lord has been good to you to send you among them. This is the word +of a man in the late evening of life to one in the hopeful morning. +You will take it, I hope, without offense. Are you a Democrat, +sir?"</p> +<p>"I am a political economist."</p> +<p>The Colonel smiled. "Well said, sir. Science knows no party +lines. Your chosen subject rises above the valley of partisanry +where we old wheel-horses plod—stinging each other in the +dust, as the poet finely says. Mr. West has told me of your +laurels."</p> +<p>He went on to outline the business side of what the <i>Post</i> +had to offer. Queed found himself invited to write a certain number +of editorial articles, not to exceed six a week, under the +Colonel's direction. He had his choice of working on space, at the +rate of five dollars per column, payment dependent upon +publication; or of drawing a fixed honorarium of ten dollars per +week, whether called on for the stipulated six articles or for no +articles at all. Queed decided to accept the fixed honorarium, +hoping that there would be many weeks when he would be called on +for no articles at all. A provisional arrangement to run a month +was agreed upon.</p> +<p>"I have," said the Colonel, "already sketched out some work for +you to begin on. The legislature meets here in January. It is +important to the State that our whole tax-system should be +overhauled and reformed. The present system is a mere crazy-quilt, +unsatisfactory in a thousand ways. I suggest that you begin with a +careful study of the law, making yourself familiar with—"</p> +<p>"I am already familiar with it."</p> +<p>"Ah! And what do you think of it?"</p> +<p>"It is grotesque."</p> +<p>"Good! I like a clean-cut expression of opinion such as that, +sir. Now tell me your criticisms on the law as it stands, and what +you suggest as remedies."</p> +<p>Queed did so briefly, expertly. The Colonel was considerably +impressed by his swift, searching summaries.</p> +<p>"We may go right ahead," said he. "I wish you would block out a +series of articles—eight, ten, or twelve, as you think +best—designed to prepare the public mind for a thorough-going +reform and point the way that the reform should take. Bring this +schedule to me to-morrow, if you will be so good, and we will go +over it together."</p> +<p>Queed, privately amused at the thought of Colonel Cowles's +revising his views on taxation, rose to go.</p> +<p>"By the bye," said the Colonel, unluckily struck by a thought, +"I myself wrote a preliminary article on tax reform a week or so +ago, meaning to follow it up with others later on. Perhaps you had +best read that before—"</p> +<p>"I have already read it."</p> +<p>"Ah! How did it strike you?"</p> +<p>"You ask me that?"</p> +<p>"Certainly," said Colonel Cowles, a little surprised.</p> +<p>"Well, since you ask me, I will say that I thought it rather +amusing."</p> +<p>The Colonel looked nettled. He was by nature a choleric man, but +in his age he had learned the futility of disputation and affray, +and nowadays kept a tight rein upon himself.</p> +<p>"You are frank sir—'tis a commendable quality. Doubtless +your work will put my own poor efforts to the blush."</p> +<p>"I shall leave you to judge of that, Colonel Cowles."</p> +<p>The Colonel, abandoning his hospitable plan of inviting his new +assistant to sup with him at the club, bowed with dignity, and +Queed eagerly left him. Glancing at his watch in the elevator, the +young man figured that the interview, including going and coming, +would stand him in an hour's time, which was ten minutes more than +he had allowed for it.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Selections from Contemporary Opinions of Mr. Queed; also +concerning Henry G. Surface, his Life and Deeds; of Fifi, the +Landlady's Daughter, and how she happened to look up Altruism in +the Dictionary</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>A month later, one icy afternoon, Charles Gardiner West ran into +Colonel Cowles at the club, where the Colonel, a lone widower, +repaired each day at six P.M., there to talk over the state of the +Union till nine-thirty.</p> +<p>"Colonel," said West, dropping into a chair, "man to man, what +is your opinion of Doctor Queed's editorials?"</p> +<p>"They are unanswerable," said the Colonel, and consulted his +favorite ante-prandial refreshment.</p> +<p>West laughed. "Yes, but from the standpoint of the general +public, Constant Reader, Pro Bono Publico, and all that?"</p> +<p>"No subscriber will ever be angered by them."</p> +<p>"Would you say that they helped the editorial page or not?"</p> +<p>"They lend to it an academic elegance, a scientific stateliness, +a certain grand and austere majesty—"</p> +<p>"Colonel, I asked you for your opinion of those articles."</p> +<p>"Damn it, sir," roared the Colonel, "I've never read one."</p> +<p>Later West repeated the gist of this conversation to Miss +Weyland, who ornamented with him a tiny dinner given that evening +at the home of their very good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart +Byrd.</p> +<p>It was a beautiful little dinner, as befitted the hospitable +distinction of the givers. The Stewart Byrds were hosts among a +thousand. In him, as it further happens, West (himself the beau +ideal of so many) had from long ago recognized his own paragon and +pattern; a worthy one, indeed, this tall young man whose fine +abilities and finer faiths were already writing his name so large +upon the history of his city. About the dim-lit round of his table +there were gathered but six this evening, including the host and +hostess; the others, besides Sharlee Weyland and West, being +Beverley Byrd and Miss Avery: the youngest of the four Byrd +brothers, and heir with them to one of the largest fortunes in the +State; and the only daughter of old Avery, who came to us from +Mauch Chunk, Pa., his money preceding him in a special train of box +cars, especially invented for the transportation of Pennsylvania +millions to places where the first families congregate.</p> +<p>"And I had to confess that I'd never read one either. I did +begin one," said West—"it was called 'Elementary Principles +of Incidence and Distribution,' I remember—but the hour was +eleven-thirty and I fell asleep."</p> +<p>"I know exactly how you felt about it," said Sharlee, "for I +have read them all—<i>moi!</i>"</p> +<p>He looked at her with boundless admiration. "His one +reader!"</p> +<p>"There are two of us, if you please. I think of getting up a +club—Associated Sons and Daughters of Mr. Queed's Faithful +Followers; President, Me. I'll make the other member Secretary, for +he is experienced in that work. He's at present Secretary of the +Tax Reform League in New York. Did Colonel Cowles show you the +wonderful letter that came from him, asking the name of the man who +was writing the <i>Post's</i> masterly tax articles, et cetera, et +cetera?"</p> +<p>"No—really! But tell me, how have you, as President, +enjoyed them?"</p> +<p>"I haven't understood a single word in any of them. Where on +earth did he dig up his fearful vocabulary? Yet it is the plain +duty of both of us to read these articles: you as one of his +employers, I as the shrewd landlady's agent who keeps a watchful +eye upon the earning power of her boarders."</p> +<p>West mused. "He has a wonderful genius for crushing all the +interest out of any subject he touches, hasn't he? Yet manifestly +the first duty of an editorial is to get itself read. How old do +you think he is?"</p> +<p>"Oh—anywhere from twenty-five to—forty-seven."</p> +<p>"He'll be twenty-four this month. I see him sometimes at the +office, you know, where he still treats me like an intrusive +subscription agent. In some ways, he is undoubtedly the oldest man +in the world. In another way he hasn't any age at all. Spiritually +he is unborn—he simply doesn't exist at all. I diagnose his +complaint as ingrowing egoism of a singularly virulent +variety."</p> +<p>It was beyond Sharlee's power to controvert this diagnosis. Mr. +Queed had in fact impressed her as the most frankly and grossly +self-centred person she had ever seen in her life. But unlike West, +her uppermost feeling in regard to him was a strong sense of pity. +She knew things about his life that West did not know and probably +never would. For though the little Doctor of Mrs. Paynter's had +probably not intended to give her a confidence, and certainly had +no right to do so, she had thus regarded what he said to her in the +dining-room that night, and of his pathetic situation in regard to +a father she never meant to say a word to anybody.</p> +<p>"I sized him up for a remarkable man," said she, "when I saw the +wonderful way he sat upon his hat that afternoon. Don't you +remember? He struck me then as the most natural, unconscious, and +direct human being I ever saw—don't you think that?—and +now think of his powers of concentration. All his waking time, +except what he gives to the <i>Post</i>, goes to that awful book of +his. He is ridiculous now because his theory of life is ridiculous. +But suppose it popped into his head some day to switch all that +directness and concentrated energy in some other direction. Don't +you think he might be rather a formidable young person?"</p> +<p>West conceded that there might be something in that. And +happening to glance across the flower-sweet table at the moment, he +was adroitly detached and re-attached by the superbly "finished" +Miss Avery.</p> +<p>The little dinner progressed. Nor was this the only spot in town +where evening meals were going forward amid stimulating talk. Far +away over the town, at the same hour, the paying guests of Mrs. +Paynter's were gathered about her hospitable board, plying the twin +arts of supping and talking. And as Sharlee's fellow-diners talked +of Mr. Queed, it chanced that Mr. Queed's fellow-suppers were +talking of Sharlee, or at any rate of her family's famous +misfortune. Mr. Queed, it is true, did not appreciate this fact, +for the name of the female agent who had taken his Twenty from him +could not have been more unknown to him if she had been a dweller +in Phrygia or far Cappadocia.</p> +<p>Major Brooke told, not by request, one of his well-known stories +about how he had flouted and routed the Republicans in 1875. The +plot of these stories was always the same, but the setting shifted +about here and there, and this one had to do with a county election +in which, the Major said, the Republicans and negroes had gone the +limit trying to swindle the Democrats out of the esteemed +offices.</p> +<p>"And I said, 'You'—the ladies will excuse me, I'm +sure—'You lying rascal,' s' I, 'don't you dare to contradict +me! You're all tarred with the same pitch,' s' I. 'Everything you +touch turns corrupt and rotten. Look at Henry G. Surface,' s' I. +'The finest fellow God ever made, till the palsied hand of +Republicanism fell upon him, and now cankering and rotting in +jail—'"</p> +<p>"But Henry G. Surface wasn't rotting in jail in 1875," said +William Klinker, and boldly winked at the little Doctor.</p> +<p>The Major, disconcerted for an instant by his anachronism, +recovered superbly. "My vision, sir, was prophetic. The stain was +upon him. The cloven foot had already been betrayed...."</p> +<p>"And who was Henry G. Surface?" inquired Mr. Queed.</p> +<p>"What! You haven't heard that infamous story!" cried the Major, +with the surprised delight of the inveterate raconteur who has +unexpectedly stumbled upon an audience.</p> +<p>A chair-leg scraped, and Professor Nicolovius was standing, +bowing in his sardonic way to Mrs. Paynter.</p> +<p>"Since I have happened to hear it often, madam, through Major +Brooke's tireless kindness, you will perhaps be so good as to +excuse me."</p> +<p>And he stalked out of the room, head up, his auburn goatee +stabbing the atmosphere before him, in rather a heavy silence.</p> +<p>"Pish!" snapped the Major, when the door had safely shut. And +tapping his forehead significantly, he gave his head a few solemn +wags and launched upon the worn biography of Henry G. Surface.</p> +<p>Tattered with much use as the story is, and was, the boarders +listened with a perennial interest while Major Brooke expounded the +familiar details. His wealth of picturesque language we may safely +omit, and briefly remind the student of the byways of history how +Henry G. Surface found himself, during the decade following +Appomattox, with his little world at his feet. He was thirty at the +time, handsome, gifted, high-spirited, a brilliant young man who +already stood high in the councils of the State. But he was also +restless in disposition, arrogant, over-weeningly vain, and +ambitious past all belief—"a yellow streak in him, and we +didn't know it!" bellowed the Major. Bitterly chagrined by his +failure to secure, from a legislature of the early seventies, the +United States Senatorship which he had confidently expected, young +Surface, in a burst of anger and resentment, committed the +unforgivable sin. He went over bag and baggage to the other side, +to the "nigger party" whom all his family, friends, and relations, +all his "class," everybody else with his instincts and traditions, +were desperately struggling, by hook and by crook, to crush.</p> +<p>In our mild modern preferences as between presidents, or this +governor and that, we catch no reminiscence of the fierce +antagonisms of the elections of reconstruction days. The idolized +young tribune of the people became a Judas Iscariot overnight, with +no silver pieces as the price of his apostasy. If he expected +immediate preferment from the other camp, he was again bitterly +disappointed. Life meantime had become unbearable to him. He was +ostracized more studiously than any leper; it is said that his own +father cut him when they passed each other in the street. His young +wife died, heartbroken, it was believed, by the flood of hatred and +vilification that poured in upon her husband. One man alone stood +by Surface in his downfall, his classmate and friend of his bosom +from the cradle, John Randolph Weyland, a good man and a true. +Weyland's affection never faltered. When Surface withdrew from the +State with a heart full of savage rancor, Weyland went every year +or two to visit him, first in Chicago and later in New York, where +the exile was not slow in winning name and fortune as a daring +speculator. And when Weyland died, leaving a widow and infant +daughter, he gave a final proof of his trust by making Surface sole +trustee of his estate, which was a large one for that time and +place. Few have forgotten how the political traitor rewarded this +misplaced confidence. The crash came within a few months. Surface +was arrested in the company of a woman whom he referred to as his +wife. The trust fund, saving a fraction, was gone, swallowed up to +stay some ricketty deal. Surface was convicted of embezzlement and +sentenced to ten years at hard labor, and every Democrat in the +State cried, "I told you so." What had become of him after his +release from prison, nobody knew; some of the boarders said that he +was living in the west, or in Australia; others, that he was not +living anywhere, unless on the shores of perpetual torment. All +agreed that the alleged second Mrs. Surface had long since +died—all, that is, but Klinker, who said that she had only +pretended to die in order to make a fade-away with the gate +receipts. For many persons believed, it seemed, that Surface, by +clever juggling of his books, had managed to "hold out" a large sum +of money in the enforced settlement of his affairs. At any rate, +very little of it ever came back to the family of the man who had +put trust in him, and that was why the daughter, whose name was +Charlotte Lee Weyland, now worked for her daily bread.</p> +<p>That Major Brooke's hearers found this story of evergreen +interest was natural enough. For besides the brilliant blackness of +the narrative, there was the close personal connection that all +Paynterites had with some of its chief personages. Did not the +sister-in-law of John Randolph Weyland sit and preside over them +daily, pouring their coffee morning and night with her own hands? +And did not the very girl whose fortune had been stolen, the bereft +herself, come now and then to sit among them, occupying that +identical chair which Mr. Bylash could touch by merely putting out +his hand? Henry G. Surface's story? Why, Mrs. Paynter's wrote +it!</p> +<p>These personal bearings were of course lost upon Mr. Queed, the +name Weyland being utterly without significance to him. He left the +table the moment he had absorbed all the supper he wanted. In the +hall he ran upon Professor Nicolovius, the impressive-looking +master of Greek at Milner's Collegiate School, who, already hatted +and overcoated, was drawing on his gloves under the depressed fancy +chandelier. The old professor glanced up at the sound of footsteps +and favored Queed with a bland smile.</p> +<p>"I can't resist taking our doughty swashbuckler down a peg or +two every now and then," said he. "Did you ever know such an +interminable ass?"</p> +<p>"Really, I never thought about it," said the young man, raising +his eye-brows in surprise and annoyance at being addressed.</p> +<p>"Then take my word for it. You'll not find his match in America. +You show your wisdom, at any rate, in giving as little of your +valuable time as possible to our charming supper-table."</p> +<p>"That hardly argues any Solomonic wisdom, I fancy."</p> +<p>"You're in the hands of the Philistines here, Mr. Queed," said +Nicolovius, snapping his final button. "May I say that I have read +some of your editorials in the <i>Post</i> +with—ah—pleasure and profit? I should feel flattered if +you would come to see me in my room some evening, where I can offer +you, at any rate, a fire and a so-so cigar."</p> +<p>"Thank you. However, I do not smoke," said Doctor Queed, and, +bowing coldly to the old professor, started rapidly up the +stairs.</p> +<p>Aloft the young man went to his scriptorium, happy in the +thought that five hours of incorruptible leisure and unswerving +devotion to his heart's dearest lay before him. It had been a day +when the <i>Post</i> did not require him; hour by hour since +breakfast he had fared gloriously upon his book. But to-night his +little room was cold; unendurably cold; not even the flamings of +genius could overcome its frigor; and hardly half an hour had +passed before he became aware that his sanctum was altogether +uninhabitable. Bitterly he faced the knowledge that he must fare +forth into the outer world of the dining-room that night; irritably +he gathered up his books and papers.</p> +<p>Half-way down the first flight a thought struck Queed, and he +retraced his steps. The last time that he had been compelled to the +dining-room the landlady's daughter had been there—(it was +all an accident, poor child! Hadn't she vowed to herself never to +intrude on the little Doctor again?)—and, stupidly breaking +the point of her pencil, had had the hardihood to ask him for the +loan of his knife. Mr. Queed was determined that this sort of thing +should not occur again. A method for enforcing his determination, +at once firm and courteous, had occurred to him. One could never +tell when trespassers would stray into the dining-room—his +dining-room by right of his exalted claim. Rummaging in his bottom +bureau drawer, he produced a placard, like a narrow little +sign-board, and tucking it under his arm, went on downstairs.</p> +<p>The precaution was by no means superfluous. Disgustingly enough +the landlady's daughter was once more in his dining-room before +him, the paraphernalia of her algebra spread over half the +Turkey-red cloth. Fifi looked up, plainly terrified at his entrance +and his forbidding expression. It was her second dreadful blunder, +poor luckless little wight! She had faithfully waited a whole +half-hour, and Mr. Queed had shown no signs of coming down. Never +had he waited so long as this when he meant to claim the +dining-room. Mrs. Paynter's room, nominally heated by a flume from +the Latrobe heater in the parlor, was noticeably coolish on a +wintry night. Besides, there was no table in it, and everybody +knows that algebra is hard enough under the most favorable +conditions, let alone having to do it on your knee. It seemed +absolutely safe; Fifi had yielded to the summons of the familiar +comforts; and now—</p> +<p>"Oh—how do you do?" she was saying in a frightened +voice.</p> +<p>Mr. Queed bowed, indignantly. Silently he marched to his chair, +the one just opposite, and sat down in offended majesty. To Fifi it +seemed that to get up at once and leave the room, which she would +gladly have done, would be too crude a thing to do, too gross a +rebuke to the little Doctor's Ego. She was wrong, of course, though +her sensibilities were indubitably right. Therefore she feigned +enormous engrossment in her algebra, and struggled to make herself +as small and inoffensive as she could.</p> +<p>The landlady's daughter wore a Peter Thompson suit of blue +serge, which revealed a few inches of very thin white neck. She was +sixteen and reddish-haired, and it was her last year at the High +School. The reference is to Fifi's completion of the regular +curriculum, and not to any impending promotion to a still Higher +School. She was a fond, uncomplaining little thing, who had never +hurt anybody's feelings in her life, and her eyes, which were light +blue, had just that look of ethereal sweetness you see in +Burne-Jones's women and for just that same reason. Her syrup she +took with commendable faithfulness; the doctor, in rare visits, +spoke cheerily of the time when she was to be quite strong and well +again; but there were moments when Sharlee Weyland, looking at her +little cousin's face in repose, felt her heart stop still.</p> +<p>Fifi dallied with her algebra, hoping and praying that she would +not <i>have</i> to cough. She had been very happy all that day. +There was no particular reason for it; so it was the nicest kind of +happiness, the kind that comes from inside, which even the presence +of the little Doctor could not take away from her. Heaven knew that +Fifi harbored no grudge against Mr. Queed, and she had not +forgotten what Sharlee said about being gentle with him. But how to +be gentle with so austere a young Socrates? Raising her head upon +the pretext of turning a page, Fifi stole a hurried glance at +him.</p> +<p>The first thing Mr. Queed had done on sitting down was to +produce his placard, silently congratulating himself on having +brought it. Selecting the book which he would be least likely to +need, he shoved it well forward, nearly halfway across the table, +and against the volume propped up his little pasteboard sign, the +printed part staring straight toward Fifi. The sign was an old one +which he had chanced to pick up years ago at the Astor Library. It +read:</p> +<p>SILENCE</p> +<p>Arch-type and model of courteous warning!</p> +<p>When Fifi read the little Doctor's sign, her feelings were not +in the least wounded, insufficiently subtle though some particular +people might have thought its admonition to be. On the contrary, it +was only by the promptest work in getting her handkerchief into her +mouth that she avoided laughing out loud. The two of them alone in +the room and his <i>Silence</i> sign gazing at her like a +pasteboard Gorgon!</p> +<p>Fifi became more than ever interested in Mr. Queed. An intense +and strictly feminine curiosity filled her soul to know something +of the nature of that work which demanded so stern a noiselessness. +Observing rigorously the printed Rule of the Dining-Room, she could +not forbear to pilfer glance after glance at the promulgator of it. +Mr. Queed was writing, not reading, to-night. He wrote very slowly +on half-size yellow pads, worth seventy-five cents a dozen, using +the books only for reference. Now he tore off a sheet only partly +filled with his small handwriting, and at the head of a new sheet +inscribed a Roman numeral, with a single word under that. Like her +cousin Sharlee at an earlier date, Fifi experienced a desire to +study out, upside down, what this heading was. Several peeks were +needed, with artful attention to algebra between whiles, before she +was at last convinced that she had it. Undoubtedly it was</p> +<p>XVIII<br /> +<br /> +ALTRUISM</p> +<p>There was nothing enormous about Fifi's vocabulary, but she well +knew what to do in a case like this. Behind her stood a battered +little walnut bookcase, containing the Paynter library. After a +safe interval of absorption in her sums, she pushed back her chair +with the most respectful quietude and pulled out a tall volume. The +pages of it she turned with blank studious face but considerable +inner expectancy: Af—Ai—Al—Alf....</p> +<p>A giggle shattered the academic calm, and Fifi, in horror, +realized that she was the author of it. She looked up quickly, and +her worst fears were realized. Mr. Queed was staring at her, as one +scarcely able to credit his own senses, icy rebuke piercing through +and overflowing his great round spectacles.</p> +<p>"I beg your pardon!—Mr. Queed. It—it slipped out, +really—"</p> +<p>But the young man thought that the time had come when this +question of noise in his dining-room must be settled once and for +all.</p> +<p>"Indeed? Be kind enough to explain the occasion of it."</p> +<p>"Why," said Fifi, too truthful to prevaricate and completely +cowed, "it—it was only the meaning of a word here. +It—was silly of me. I—I can't explain +it—exactly—"</p> +<p>"Suppose you try. Since your merriment interrupts my work, I +claim the privilege of sharing it."</p> +<p>"Well! I—I—happened to see that word at the head of +the page you are writing—"</p> +<p>"Proceed."</p> +<p>"I—I looked it up in the dictionary. It <i>says</i>," she +read out with a gulp and a cough, "it means 'self-sacrificing +devotion to the interests of others.'"</p> +<p>The poor child thought her point must now be indelicately plain, +but the lips of Doctor Queed merely emitted another close-clipped: +"Proceed."</p> +<p>At a desperate loss as she was, Fifi was suddenly visited by an +idea. "Oh! I see. You're—you're writing <i>against</i> +altruism, aren't you?"</p> +<p>"What leads you to that conclusion, if I may ask?"</p> +<p>"Why—I—I suppose it's the—way you—you +do. Of course I oughtn't to have said it—"</p> +<p>"Go on. What way that I do?"</p> +<p>Poor Fifi saw that she was floundering in ever more deeply. With +the boldness of despair she blurted out: "Well—one +thing—you sent me out of the room that night—when I +coughed, you know. I—I don't understand about altruism like +you do, but I—should think it was—my interests to stay +here—"</p> +<p>There followed a brief silence, which made Fifi more miserable +than any open rebuke, and then Mr. Queed said in a dry tone: "I am +engaged upon a work of great importance to the public, I may say to +posterity. Perhaps you can appreciate that such a work is entitled +to the most favorable conditions in which to pursue it."</p> +<p>"Of course. Indeed I understand perfectly, Mr. Queed," said +Fifi, immediately touched by what seemed like kindness from him. +And she added innocently: "All men—writing men, I +mean—feel that way about their work—I suppose. I +remember Mr. Sutro who used to have the very same room you're in +now. He was writing a five-act play, all in poetry, to show the +horrors of war, and he used to say—"</p> +<p>The young man involuntarily shuddered. "I have nothing to do +with other men. I am thinking," he said with rather an unfortunate +choice of words, "only of myself."</p> +<p>"Oh—I see! Now I understand exactly!"</p> +<p>"What is it that you see and understand so exactly?"</p> +<p>"Why, the way you feel about altruism. You believe in it for +other people, but not for yourself! Isn't that right?"</p> +<p>They stared across the table at each other: innocent Fifi, who +barely knew the meaning of altruism, but had practiced it from the +time she could practice anything, and the little Doctor, who knew +everything about altruism that social science would ever formulate, +and had stopped right there. All at once, his look altered; from +objective it became subjective. The question seemed suddenly to +hook onto something inside, like a still street-car gripping hold +of a cable and beginning to move; the mind's eye of the young man +appeared to be seized and swept inward. Presently without a word he +resumed his writing.</p> +<p>Fifi was much disturbed at the effect of her artless question, +and just when everything was beginning to go so nicely too. In +about half an hour, when she got up to retire, she said +timidly:—</p> +<p>"I'm sorry if I—I was rude just now, Mr. Queed. Indeed, I +didn't mean to be...."</p> +<p>"I did not say that you were rude," he answered without looking +up.</p> +<p>But at the door Fifi was arrested by his voice.</p> +<p>"Why do you think it to your advantage to work in here?"</p> +<p>"It's—it's a good deal warmer, you know," said Fifi, +flustered, "and—then of course there's the table and lamp. +But it's quite all right upstairs—really!"</p> +<p>He made no answer.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Autobiographical Data imparted, for Sound Business Reasons, +to a Landlady's Agent; of the Agent's Other Title, etc.</i></p> +</div> +<p>While all move in slots in this world, Mr. Queed's slot was +infinitely more clearly marked than any of his neighbors'. It ran +exclusively between the heaven of his room and the hades of the +<i>Post</i> office; manifesting itself at the latter place in +certain staid writings done in exchange for ten dollars, currency +of the realm, paid down each and every Saturday. Into this slot he +had been lifted, as it were by the ears, by a slip of a girl of the +name of Charlotte Lee Weyland, though it was some time before he +ever thought of it in that way.</p> +<p>In the freemasonry of the boarding-house, the young man was +early accepted as he was. He was promptly voted the driest, most +uninteresting and self-absorbed savant ever seen. Even Miss Miller, +ordinarily indefatigable where gentlemen were concerned, soon gave +him up. To Mr. Bylash she spoke contemptuously of him, but secretly +she was awed by his stately manner of speech and his godlike +indifference to all pleasures, including those of female society. +Of them all, Nicolovius was the only one who seemed in the least +impressed by Mr. Queed's appointment as editorial writer on the +<i>Post</i>. With the others the exalted world he moved in was so +remote from theirs that no surprises were possible there, and if +informed that the little Doctor had been elected president of +Harvard University, it would have seemed all in the day's work to +William Klinker. Klinker was six feet high, red-faced and friendly, +and Queed preferred his conversation above any heard at Mrs. +Paynter's table. It reminded him very much of his friend the +yeggman in New York.</p> +<p>What went on behind the door of the tiny Scriptorium the +boarders could only guess. It may be said that its owner's big +grievance against the world was that he had to leave it +occasionally to earn his bread and meat. Apart from this he never +left it in those days except for one reason, viz., the consumption +three times a day of the said bread and meat. Probably this was one +explanation of the marked pallor of his cheek, but of such details +as this he never took the smallest notice.</p> +<p>Under the tiny bed were three boxes of books, chief fruit of the +savings of an inexpensive lifetime. But the books were now merely +the occasional stimulus of a mind already well stored with their +strength, well fortified against their weaknesses. Nowadays nearly +all of Queed's time, which he administered by an iron-clad Schedule +of Hours, duly drawn up, went to the actual writing of his Magnum +Opus. He had practically decided that it should be called "The +Science of Sciences." For his book was designed to coördinate +and unify the theories of all science into the single theory which +alone gave any of them a living value, namely, the progressive +evolution of a higher organized society and a higher individual +type. That this work would blaze a wholly new trail for a world of +men, he rarely entertained a doubt. To its composition he gave +fifteen actual hours a day on <i>Post</i> days, sixteen hours on +non-<i>Post</i> days. Many men speak of working hours like these, +or even longer ones, but investigation would generally show that +all kinds of restful interludes are indiscriminately counted in. +Queed's hours, you understand, were not elapsed time—they +were absolutely net. He was one of the few men in the world who +literally "didn't have time."</p> +<p>He sat in Colonel Cowles's office, scribbling rapidly, with his +eye on his watch, writing one of those unanswerable articles which +were so much dead space to a people's newspaper. It was a late +afternoon in early February, soon after the opening of the +legislature; and he was alone in the office. A knock fell upon the +door, and at his "Come," a girl entered who looked as pretty as a +dewy May morning. Queed looked up at her with no welcome in his +eye, or greeting on his lip, or spring in the pregnant hinges of +his knee. Yet if he had been a less self-absorbed young scientist, +it must certainly have dawned on him that he had seen this lady +before.</p> +<p>"Oh! How do you do!" said Sharlee, for it was indeed no +other.</p> +<p>"Oh—quite well."</p> +<p>"Miss Leech tells me that Colonel Cowles has gone out. I +particularly wished to see him. Perhaps you know when he will be +back?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps in half an hour. Perhaps in an hour. I cannot say."</p> +<p>She mused disappointedly. "I could hardly wait. Would you be +good enough to give him a message for me?"</p> +<p>"Very well."</p> +<p>"Well—just tell him, please, that if he can make it +convenient, we'd like the article about the reformatory to go in +to-morrow, or the next day, anyway. He'll understand perfectly; I +have talked it all over with him. The only point was as to when the +article would have the most effect, and we think the time has come +now."</p> +<p>"You would like an article written about a reformatory for +to-morrow's <i>Post</i> or next day's. Very well."</p> +<p>"Thank you so much for telling him. Good-afternoon."</p> +<p>"<i>You</i> would like," the young man repeated—"but one +moment, if you please. You have omitted to inform me who <i>you</i> +are."</p> +<p>To his surprise the lady turned round with a gay laugh. Sharlee +had supposed that Mr. Queed, having been offended by her, was +deliberately cutting her. That her identity had literally dropped +cleanly from his mind struck her as both much better and decidedly +more amusing.</p> +<p>"Don't you remember me?" she reminded him once again, laughing +full at him from the threshhold. "My dog knocked you over in the +street one day—surely you remember the +pleasure-dog?—and then that night I gave you your supper at +Mrs. Paynter's and afterwards collected twenty dollars from you for +back board. I am Mrs. Paynter's niece and my name is Charlotte +Weyland."</p> +<p>Weyland?... Weyland? Oho! So this was the girl—sure +enough—that Henry G. Surface had stripped of her fortune. +Well, well!</p> +<p>"Ah, yes, I recall you now."</p> +<p>She thought there was an inimical note in his voice, and to pay +him for it, she said with a final smiling nod: "Oh, I am <i>so</i> +pleased!"</p> +<p>Her little sarcasm passed miles over his head. She had touched +the spring of the automatic card-index system known as his memory +and the ingenious machinery worked on. Presently it pushed out and +laid before him the complete record, neatly ticketed and arranged, +the full dossier, of all that had passed between him and the girl. +But she was nearly through the door before he had decided to +say:</p> +<p>"I had another letter from my father last night."</p> +<p>"Oh!" she said, turning at once—"<i>Did</i> you!"</p> +<p>He nodded, gloomily. "However, there was not a cent of money in +it."</p> +<p>If he had racked his brains for a subject calculated to detain +her—which we may rely upon it that he did not do—he +could not have hit upon a surer one. Sharlee Weyland had a great +fund of pity for this young man's worse than fatherlessness, and +did not in the least mind showing it. She came straight back into +the room and up to the table where he sat.</p> +<p>"Does it help you at all—about knowing where he is, I +mean?"</p> +<p>"Not in the least. I wonder what he's up to anyway?"</p> +<p>He squinted up at her interrogatively through his circular +glasses, as though she ought to be able to tell him if anybody +could. Then a thought very much like that took definite shape in +his mind. He himself had no time to give to mysterious problems and +will-o'-the-wisp pursuits; his book and posterity claimed it all. +This girl was familiar with the city; doubtless knew all the +people; she seemed intelligent and capable, as girls went. He +remembered that he had consulted her about securing remunerative +work, with some results; possibly she would also have something +sensible to say about his paternal problem. He might make an even +shrewder stroke. As his landlady's agent, this girl would of course +be interested in establishing his connection with a relative who +had twenty-dollar bills to give away. Therefore if it ever should +come to a search, why mightn't he turn the whole thing over to the +agent—persuade her to hunt his father for him, and thus leave +his own time free for the service of the race?</p> +<p>"Look here," said he, with a glance at his watch. "I'll take a +few minutes. Kindly sit down there and I'll show you how the man is +behaving."</p> +<p>Sharlee sat down as she was bidden, close by his side, piqued as +to her curiosity, as well as flattered by his royal condescension. +She wore her business suit, which was rough and blue, with a smart +little pony coat. She also wore a white veil festooned around her +hat, and white gloves that were quite unspotted from the world. The +raw February winds had whipped roses into her cheeks; her pure +ultramarine eyes made the blue of her suit look commonplace and +dull. Dusk had fallen over the city, and Queed cleverly bethought +him to snap on an electric light. It revealed a very shabby, +ramshackle, and dingy office; but the long table in it was new, +oaken, and handsome. In fact, it was one of the repairs introduced +by the new management.</p> +<p>"Here," said he, "is his first letter—the one that brought +me from New York."</p> +<p>He took it from its envelope and laid it open on the table. A +sense of the pathos in this ready sharing of one's most intimate +secrets with a stranger took hold of Sharlee as she leaned forward +to see what it might say.</p> +<p>"Be careful! Your feather thing is sticking my eye."</p> +<p>Meekly the girl withdrew to a safer distance. From there she +read with amazement the six typewritten lines which was all that +the letter proved to be. They read thus:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Your father asks that, if you have any of the natural feelings +of a son, you will at once leave New York and take up your +residence in this city. This is the first request he has ever made +of you, as it will be, if you refuse it, the last. But he earnestly +begs that you will comply with it, anticipating that it will be to +your decided advantage to do so.</p> +</div> +<p>"The envelope that that came in," said Queed, briskly laying it +down. "Now here's the envelope that the twenty dollars came +in—it is exactly like the other two, you observe.—The +last exhibit is somewhat remarkable; it came yesterday. Read +that."</p> +<p>Sharlee required no urging. She read:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Make friends; mingle with people, and learn to like them. This +is the earnest injunction of</p> +<p>Your father.</p> +</div> +<p>"Note especially," said the young man, "the initial Q on each of +the three envelopes. You will observe that the tail in every +instance is defective in just the same way."</p> +<p>Sure enough, the tail of every Q was broken off short near the +root, like the rudimentary tail anatomists find in Genus Homo. Mr. +Queed looked at her with scholarly triumph.</p> +<p>"I suppose that removes all doubt," said she, "that all these +came from the same person."</p> +<p>"Unquestionably.—Well? What do they suggest to you?"</p> +<p>A circle of light from the green-shaded desk-lamp beat down on +the three singular exhibits. Sharlee studied them with bewilderment +mixed with profound melancholy.</p> +<p>"Is it conceivable," said she, hesitatingly—"I only +suggest this because the whole thing seems so +extraordinary—that somebody is playing a very foolish joke on +you?"</p> +<p>He stared. "Who on earth would wish to joke with me?"</p> +<p>Of course he had her there. "I wish," she said, "that you would +tell me what you yourself think of them."</p> +<p>"I think that my father must be very hard up for something to +do."</p> +<p>"Oh—I don't think I should speak of it in that way if I +were you."</p> +<p>"Why not? If he cites filial duty to me, why shall I not cite +paternal duty to him? Why should he confine his entire relations +with me in twenty-four years to two preposterous detective-story +letters?"</p> +<p>Sharlee said nothing. To tell the truth, she thought the +behavior of Queed Senior puzzling in the last degree.</p> +<p>"You grasp the situation? He knows exactly where I am; evidently +he has known it all along. He could come to see me to-night; he +could have come as soon as I arrived here three months ago; he +could have come five, ten, twenty years ago, when I was in New +York. But instead he elects to write these curious letters, +apparently seeking to make a mystery, and throwing the burden of +finding him on me. Why should I become excited over the prospect? +If he would promise to endow me now, to support or pension me off, +if I found him, that would be one thing. But I submit to you that +no man can be expected to interrupt a most important life-work in +consideration of a single twenty-dollar bill. And that is the only +proof of interest I ever had from him. No—" he broke off +suddenly—"no, that's hardly true after all. I suppose it was +he who sent the money to Tim."</p> +<p>"To Tim?"</p> +<p>"Tim Queed."</p> +<p>Presently she gently prodded him. "And do you want to tell me +who Tim Queed is?"</p> +<p>He eyed her thoughtfully. If the ground of his talk appeared +somewhat delicate, nothing could have been more matter-of-fact than +the way he tramped it. Yet now he palpably paused to ask himself +whether it was worth his while to go more into detail. Yes; clearly +it was. If it ever became necessary to ask the boarding-house agent +to find his father for him, she would have to know what the +situation was, and now was the time to make it plain to her once +and for all.</p> +<p>"He is the man I lived with till I was fourteen; one of my +friends, a policeman. For a long time I supposed, of course, that +Tim was my father, but when I was ten or twelve, he told me, first +that I was an orphan who had been left with him to bring up, and +later on, that I had a father somewhere who was not in a position +to bring up children. That was all he would ever say about it. I +became a student while still a little boy, having educated myself +practically without instruction of any sort, and when I was +fourteen I left Tim because he married at that time, and, with the +quarreling and drinking that followed, the house became unbearable. +Tim then told me for the first time that he had, from some source, +funds equivalent to twenty-five dollars a month for my board, and +that he would allow me fifteen of that, keeping ten dollars a month +for his services as agent. You follow all this perfectly? So +matters went along for ten years, Tim bringing me the fifteen +dollars every month and coming frequently to see me in between, +often bringing along his brother Murphy, who is a yeggman. Last +fall came this letter, purporting to be from my father. Absurd as +it appeared to me, I decided to come. Tim said that, in that case, +he would be compelled to cut off the allowance entirely. +Nevertheless, I came."</p> +<p>Sharlee had listened to this autobiographical sketch with close +and sympathetic attention. "And now that you are here—and +settled—haven't you decided to do something—?"</p> +<p>He leaned back in his swivel chair and stared at her. "Do +something! Haven't I done all that he asked? Haven't I given up +fifteen dollars a month for him? Decidedly, the next move is +his."</p> +<p>"But if you meant to take no steps when you got here, why did +you come?"</p> +<p>"To give him his chance, of course. One city is exactly like +another to me. All that I ask of any of them is a table and +silence. Apart from the forfeiture of my income, living here and +living there are all one. Do! You talk of it glibly enough, but +what is there to do? There are no Queeds in this city. I looked in +the directory this morning. In all probability that is not his name +anyway. Kindly bear in mind that I have not the smallest clue to +proceed upon, even had I the time and willingness to proceed upon +it."</p> +<p>"I am obliged to agree with you," she said, "in thinking that +your—"</p> +<p>"Besides," continued Doctor Queed, "what reason have I for +thinking that he expects or desires me to track him down? For all +that he says here, that may be the last thing in the world he +wishes."</p> +<p>Sharlee, turning toward him, her chin in her white-gloved hand, +looked at him earnestly.</p> +<p>"Do you care to have me discuss it with you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, I have invited an expression of opinion from you."</p> +<p>"Then I agree with you in thinking that your father is not +treating you fairly. His attitude toward you is extraordinary, to +say the least of it. But of course there must be some good reason +for this. Has it occurred to you that he may be in +some—situation where it is not possible for him to reveal +himself to you?"</p> +<p>"Such as what?"</p> +<p>"Well, I don't know—"</p> +<p>"Why doesn't he say so plainly in his letters then?"</p> +<p>"I don't know."</p> +<p>The young man threw out his hands with a gesture which inquired +what in the mischief she was talking about then.</p> +<p>"Here is another thought," said Sharlee, not at all +disconcerted. "Have you considered that possibly he may be doing +this way—as a test?"</p> +<p>"Test of what?"</p> +<p>"Of you. I mean that, wanting to—to have you with him now, +he is taking this way of finding out whether or not you want him. +Don't you see what I mean? He appeals here to the natural feelings +of a son, and then again he tells you to make friends and learn to +like people. Evidently he is expecting something of you—I +don't know exactly what. But don't you think, perhaps, that if you +began a search for him, he would take it as a sign—"</p> +<p>"I told you that there was no way in which a search, as you call +it, could be begun. Nor, if there were, have I the smallest +inclination to begin it. Nor, again, if I had, could I possibly +take the time from My Book."</p> +<p>She was silent a moment. "There is, of course, one way in which +you could find out at any moment."</p> +<p>"Indeed! What is that, pray?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Tim Queed."</p> +<p>He smiled faintly but derisively. "Hardly. Of course Tim knows +all about it. He told me once that he was present at the wedding of +my parents; another time that my mother died when I was born. But +he would add, and will add, not a word to these confidences; not +even to assure me definitely that my father is still alive. He says +that he has sworn an oath of secrecy. I called on him before I left +New York. No, no; I may discover my father or he may discover me, +or not, but we can rest absolutely assured that I shall get no help +from Tim."</p> +<p>"But you can't mean simply to sit still—"</p> +<p>"And leave matters to him. I do."</p> +<p>"But—but," she still protested, "he is evidently unhappy +Mr. Queed—evidently counting on you for something—"</p> +<p>"Then let him come out like a man and say plainly what he wants. +I cannot possibly drop my work to try to solve entirely superfluous +enigmas. Keep all this in mind—take an interest in it, will +you?" he added briskly. "Possibly I might need your help some +day."</p> +<p>"Certainly I will. I appreciate your telling me about it, and +I'd be so glad to help you in any way that I could."</p> +<p>"How do you like my editorials?" he demanded abruptly.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I don't understand a line of them!"</p> +<p>He waved his hand indulgently, like a grandfather receiving the +just tribute of his little ones. "They are for thinkers, experts," +said he, and picked up his pencil.</p> +<p>The agent took the hint; pushed back her chair; her glove was +unbuttoned and she slowly fastened it. In her heart was a great +compassion for the little Doctor.</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed, I want you to know that if I ever could be of help +to you about <i>anything</i>, I'd always think it a real pleasure. +Please remember that, won't you? Did you know I lived down this +way, in the daytime?"</p> +<p>"Lived?"</p> +<p>She made a gesture toward the window, and away to the south and +east. "My office is only three blocks away, down there in the +park—"</p> +<p>"Your office? You don't work!"</p> +<p>"Oh, don't I though!"</p> +<p>"Why, I thought you were a <i>lady</i>!"</p> +<p>They were so close together that she was compelled to laugh full +in his face, disclosing two rows of splendid little teeth and the +tip of a rosy little tongue. Probably she could have crushed him by +another pointing gesture, turned this time toward her honored +great-grandfather who stood in marble in the square; but what was +the use?</p> +<p>"What are you laughing at?" he inquired mildly.</p> +<p>"At your definition of a lady. Where on earth did you get it? +Out of those laws of human society you write every night at my +aunt's?"</p> +<p>"No," said he, the careful scientist at once, "no, I admit, if +you like, that I used the term in a loose, popular sense. I would +not seriously contend that females of gentle birth and +breeding—ladies in the essential sense—are never +engaged in gainful occupations—"</p> +<p>"You shouldn't," she laughed, "not in this city at any rate. It +might astonish you to know how many females of gentle birth and +breeding are engaged in gainful occupations on this one block +alone. It was not ever thus with them. Once they had wealth and +engaged in nothing but delicious leisure. But in 1861 some men came +down here, about six to one, and took all this wealth away from +them, at the same time exterminating the males. Result: the +females, ladies in the essential sense, must either become gainful +or starve. They have not starved. Sociologically, it's interesting. +Make Colonel Cowles tell you about it some time."</p> +<p>"He has told me about it. In fact he tells me constantly. And +this work that you do," he said, not unkindly and not without +interest, "what is it? Are you a teacher, perhaps, a ... +no!—You speak of an office. You are a clerk, doubtless, a +bookkeeper, a stenographer, an office girl?"</p> +<p>She nodded with exaggerated gravity. "You have guessed my +secret. I am a clerk, bookkeeper, stenographer, and office girl. My +official title, of course, is a little more frilly, but you +describe—"</p> +<p>"Well? What is it?"</p> +<p>"They call it Assistant Secretary of the State Department of +Charities."</p> +<p>He looked astonished; she had no idea his face could take on so +much expression.</p> +<p>"You! <i>You</i>! Why, how on earth did you get such a +position?"</p> +<p>"Pull," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>Their eyes met, and she laughed him down.</p> +<p>"Who is the real Secretary to whom you are assistant?"</p> +<p>"The nicest man in the world. Mr. Dayne—Rev. George +Dayne."</p> +<p>"A parson! Does he know anything about his subject? Is he an +expert?—a trained relief worker? Does he know Willoughby? And +Smathers? And Conant?"</p> +<p>"Knows them by heart. Quotes pages of them at a time in his +letters without ever glancing at the books."</p> +<p>"And you?"</p> +<p>"I may claim some familiarity with their theories."</p> +<p>He fussed with his pencil. "I recall defining sociology for you +one night at my boarding-house...."</p> +<p>"I remember."</p> +<p>"Well," said he, determined to find something wrong, "those men +whom I mentioned to you are not so good as they think, particularly +Smathers. I may as well tell you that I shall show Smathers up +completely in my book."</p> +<p>"We shall examine your arguments with care and attention. We +leave no stone unturned to keep abreast of the best modern +thought."</p> +<p>"It is extraordinary that such a position should be held by a +girl like you, who can have no scientific knowledge of the many +complex problems.... However," he said, a ray of brightness +lightening his displeasure, "your State is notoriously backward in +this field. Your department, I fancy, can hardly be more than +rudimentary."</p> +<p>"It will be much, much more than that in another year or two. +Why, we're only four years old!"</p> +<p>"So this is why you are interested in having editorials written +about reformatories. It is a reformatory for women that you wish to +establish?"</p> +<p>"How did you know?"</p> +<p>"I merely argue from the fact that your State is so often held +up to reproach for lack of one. What is the plan?"</p> +<p>"We are asking," said the Assistant Secretary, "for a hundred +thousand dollars—sixty thousand to buy the land and build, +forty thousand for equipment and two years' support. Modest enough, +is it not? Of course we shall not get a penny from the present +legislature. Legislatures love to say no; it dearly flatters their +little vanity. We are giving them the chance to say no now. Then +when they meet again, two years from now, we trust that they will +be ready to give us what we ask—part of it, at any rate. We +can make a start with seventy-five thousand dollars."</p> +<p>Queed was moved to magnanimity. "Look here. You have been civil +to me—I will write that article for you Myself."</p> +<p>While Sharlee had become aware that the little Doctor was +interested, really interested, in talking social science with her, +she thought he must be crazy to offer such a contribution of his +time. A guilty pink stole into her cheek. A reformatory article by +Mr. Queed would doubtless be scientifically pluperfect, but nobody +would read it. Colonel Cowles, on the other hand, had never even +heard of Willoughby and Smathers; but when he wrote an article +people read it, and the humblest understood exactly what he was +driving at.</p> +<p>"Why—it's very nice of you to offer to help us, but I +couldn't think of imposing on your time—"</p> +<p>"Naturally not," said he, decisively; "but it happens that we +have decided to allow a breathing-space in my series on taxation, +that the public may digest what I have already written. I am +therefore free to discuss other topics for a few days. For +to-morrow's issue, I am analyzing certain little understood +industrial problems in Bavaria. On the following day—"</p> +<p>"It's awfully good of you to think of it," said Sharlee, +embarrassed by his grave gaze. "I can't tell you how I appreciate +it. But—but—you see, there's a lot of special detail +that applies to this particular case alone—oh, a great lot of +it—little facts connected with peculiar State conditions +and—and the history of our department, you know—and I +have talked it over so thoroughly with the Colonel—"</p> +<p>"Here is Colonel Cowles now."</p> +<p>She breathed a sigh. Colonel Cowles, entering with the breath of +winter upon him, greeted her affectionately. Queed, rather relieved +that his too hasty offer had not been accepted, noted with vexation +that his conversation with the agent had cost him eighteen minutes +of time. Vigorously he readdressed himself to the currency problems +of the Bavarians; the girl's good-night, as applied to him, fell +upon ears deafer than any post.</p> +<p>Sharlee walked home through the tingling twilight; fourteen +blocks, and she did them four times a day. It was a still evening, +clear as a bell and very cold; already stars were pushing through +the dim velvet round; all the world lay white with a light hard +snow, crusted and sparkling under the street lights. Her private +fear about the whole matter was that Queed Senior was a person of a +criminal mode of life, who, discovering the need of a young helper, +was somehow preparing to sound and size up his long-neglected +son.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>In which an Assistant Editor, experiencing the Common Desire +to thrash a Proof-Reader, makes a Humiliating Discovery; and of how +Trainer Klinker gets a Pupil the Same Evening.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The industrial problems of the Bavarians seemed an inoffensive +thesis enough, but who can evade Destiny?</p> +<p>Queed never read his own articles when they appeared in print in +the <i>Post</i>. In this peculiarity he may be said to have +resembled all the rest of the world, with the exception of the +Secretary of the Tax Reform League, and the Assistant Secretary of +the State Department of Charities. But not by any such device, +either, can a man elude his Fate. On the day following his +conversation with Mrs. Paynter's agent, Fortune gave Queed to hear +a portion of his article on the Bavarians read aloud, and read with +derisive laughter.</p> +<p>The incident occurred on a street-car, which he had taken +because of the heavy snow-fall: another illustration of the tiny +instruments with which Providence works out its momentous designs. +Had he not taken the car—he was on the point of not taking +it, when one whizzed invitingly up—he would never have heard +of the insult that the Post's linotype had put upon him, and the +course of his life might have been different. As it was, two men on +the next seat in front were reading the Post and making merry.</p> +<p>"... '<i>A lengthy procession of fleas harassed the diet.</i>' +Now what in the name of Bob ..."</p> +<p>Gradually the sentence worked its way into the closed fastness +of the young man's mind. It had a horrible familiarity, like a +ghastly parody on something known and dear. With a quick movement +he leaned forward, peering over the shoulder of the man who held +the paper.</p> +<p>The man looked around, surprised and annoyed by the strange face +breaking in so close to his own, but Queed paid no attention to +him. Yes ... it was his article they were mocking at—HIS +article. He remembered the passage perfectly. He had written: "A +lengthy procession of pleas harassed the Diet." His trained eye +swept rapidly down the half column of print. There it was! "A +procession of fleas." In <i>his</i> article! Fleas, unclean, odious +vermin, in His Article!</p> +<p>Relatively, Queed cared nothing about his work on the +<i>Post</i>, but for all the children of his brain, even the +smallest and feeblest, he had a peculiar tenderness. He was more +jealous of them than a knight of his honor, or a beauty of her +complexion. No insult to his character could have enraged him like +a slight put upon the least of these his articles. He sat back in +his seat, feeling white, and something clicked inside his head. He +remembered having heard that click once before. It was the night he +determined to evolve the final theory of social progress, which +would wipe out all other theories as the steam locomotive had wiped +out the prairie schooner.</p> +<p>He knew well enough what that click meant now. He had got a new +purpose, and that was to exact personal reparation from the +criminal who had made Him and His Work the butt of street-car +loafers. Never, it seemed to him, could he feel clean again until +he had wiped off those fleas with gore.</p> +<p>To his grim inquiry Colonel Cowles replied that the head +proof-reader, Mr. Pat, was responsible for typographical errors, +and Mr. Pat did not "come on" till 6.30. It was now but 5.50. Queed +sat down, wrote his next day's article and handed it to the +Colonel, who read the title and coughed.</p> +<p>"I shall require no article from you to-morrow or next day. On +the following day"—here the Colonel opened a drawer and +consulted a schedule—"I shall receive with pleasure your +remarks on 'Fundamental Principles of Distribution—Article +Four.'"</p> +<p>Queed ascended to the next floor, a noisy, discordant floor, +full of metal tables on castors, and long stone-topped tables not +on castors, and Mergenthaler machines, and slanting desk-like +structures holding fonts of type. Rough board partitions rose here +and there; over everything hung the deadly scent of acids from the +engravers' room.</p> +<p>"That's him now," said an ink-smeared lad, and nodded toward a +tall, gangling, mustachioed fellow in a black felt hat who had just +come up the stairs.</p> +<p>Queed marched straight for the little cubbyhole where the +proof-readers and copy-holders sweated through their long +nights.</p> +<p>"You are Mr. Pat, head proof-reader of the <i>Post</i>?"</p> +<p>"That's me, sor," said Mr. Pat, and he turned with rather a +sharp glance at the other's tone.</p> +<p>"What excuse have you to offer for making my article ridiculous +and me a common butt?"</p> +<p>"An' who the divil may you be, please?"</p> +<p>"I am Mr. Queed, special editorial writer for this paper. Look +at this." He handed over the folded <i>Post</i>, with the +typographical enormity heavily underscored in blue. "What do you +mean by falsifying my language and putting into my mouth an absurd +observation about the most loathsome of vermin?"</p> +<p>Mr. Pat was at once chagrined and incensed. He happened, +further, to be in most sensitive vein as regards little oversights +in his department. His professional pride was tortured with the +recollection that, only three days before, he had permitted the +<i>Post</i> to refer to old Major Lamar as "that immortal +veterinary," and upon the <i>Post's</i> seeking to retrieve itself +the next day, at the Major's insistent demand, he had fallen into +another error. The hateful words had come out as "immoral +veteran."</p> +<p>"Now look here!" said he, "there's nothing to be gained talking +that way. Ye've got me—I'll give ye that! But what do ye +expect?—eighty columns of type a night and niver a little +harmless slip—?"</p> +<p>"You must be taught to make no slips with my articles. I'm going +to punish you for that—"</p> +<p>"What-a-at! Say that agin!"</p> +<p>"Stand out here—I am going to give you a good thrashing. I +shall whip ..."</p> +<p>Another man would have laughed heartily and told the young man +to trot away while the trotting was good. He was nearly half a foot +shorter than Mr. Pat, and his face advertised his unmartial +customs. But Mr. Pat had the swift fierce passions of his race; and +it became to him an unendurable thing to be thus bearded by a +little spectacled person in his own den. He saw red; and out shot +his good right arm.</p> +<p>The little Doctor proved a good sailer, but bad at making a +landing. His course was arched, smooth, and graceful, but when he +stopped, he did it so bluntly that men working two stories below +looked up to ask each other who was dead. Typesetters left their +machines and hurried up, fearing that here was a case for ambulance +or undertaker. But they saw the fallen editor pick himself up, with +a face of stupefied wonder, and immediately start back toward the +angry proof-reader.</p> +<p>Mr. Pat lowered redly on his threshhold. "G'awn now! Get +away!"</p> +<p>Queed came to a halt a pace away and stood looking at him.</p> +<p>"G'awn, I tell ye! I don't want no more of your foolin'!"</p> +<p>The young man, arms hanging inoffensively by his side, stared at +him with a curious fixity.</p> +<p>These tactics proved strangely disconcerting to Mr. Pat, +obsessed as he was by a sudden sense of shame at having thumped so +impotent an adversary.</p> +<p>"Leave me be, Mr. Queed. I'm sorry I hit ye, and I niver would +'a' done it—if ye hadn't—"</p> +<p>The man's voice died away. He became lost in a great wonder as +to what under heaven this little Four-eyes meant by standing there +and staring at him with that white and entirely unfrightened +face.</p> +<p>Queed was, in fact, in the grip of a brand-new idea, an idea so +sudden and staggering that it overwhelmed him. He could not thrash +Mr. Pat. He could not thrash anybody. Anybody in the world that +desired could put gross insult upon his articles and go scot-free, +the reason being that the father of these articles was a physical +incompetent.</p> +<p>All his life young Mr. Queed had attended to his own business, +kept quiet and avoided trouble. This was his first fight, because +it was the first time that anybody had publicly insulted his work. +In his whirling sunburst of indignation, he had somehow taken it +for granted that he could punch the head of a proof-reader in much +the same way that he punched the head off Smathers's arguments. Now +he suddenly discovered his mistake, and the discovery was going +hard with him. Inside him there was raging a demon of surprising +violence of deportment; it urged him to lay hold of some instrument +of a rugged, murderous nature and assassinate Mr. Pat. But higher +up in him, in his head, there spoke the stronger voice of his +reason. While the demon screamed homicidally, reason coldly +reminded the young man that not to save his life could he +assassinate, or even hurt, Mr. Pat, and that the net result of +another endeavor to do so would be merely a second mortifying +atmospheric journey. Was it not unreasonable for a man, in a +hopeless attempt to gratify irrational passion, to take a step the +sole and certain consequences of which would be a humiliating +soaring and curveting through the air?</p> +<p>It was a terrible struggle, the marks of which broke out on the +young man's forehead in cold beads. But he was a rationalist among +rationalists, and in the end his reason subdued his demon. +Therefore, the little knot of linotypers and helpers who had stood +wonderingly by while the two adversaries stared at each other, +through a tense half-minute, now listened to the following +dialogue:—</p> +<p>"I believe I said that I would give you a good thrashing. I now +withdraw those words, for I find that I am unable to make them +good."</p> +<p>"I guess you ain't—what the divil did ye expect? Me to sit +back with me hands behind me and leave ye—"</p> +<p>"I earnestly desire to thrash you, but it is plain to me that I +am not, at present, in position to do so."</p> +<p>"Fergit it! What's afther ye, Mr. Queed—?"</p> +<p>"To get in position to thrash you, would take me a year, two +years, five years. It is not—no, it is <i>not</i> worth my +time."</p> +<p>"Well, who asked f'r any av your time? But as f'r that, I'll +give ye your chance to get square—"</p> +<p>"I suppose you feel yourself free now to take all sorts of +detestable liberties with my articles?"</p> +<p>"Liberties—what's bitin' ye, man? Don't I read revised +proof on the leaded stuff every night, no matter what the rush is? +When did ye ever before catch me—?"</p> +<p>"Physically, you are my superior, but muscle counts for very +little in this world, my man. Morally, which is all that matters, I +am your superior—you know that, don't you? Be so good as to +keep your disgusting vermin out of my articles in the future."</p> +<p>He walked away with a face which gave no sign of his inner +turmoil. Mr. Pat looked after him, stirred and bewildered, and +addressed his friends the linotypers angrily.</p> +<p>"Something loose in his belfry, as ye might have surmised from +thim damfool tax-drools."</p> +<p>For Mr. Pat was still another reader of the unanswerable +articles, he being paid the sum of twenty-seven dollars per week to +peruse everything that went into the <i>Post</i>, including +advertisements of auction sales and for sealed bids.</p> +<p>Queed returned to his own office for his hat and coat. Having +heard his feet upon the stairs, Colonel Cowles called +out:—</p> +<p>"What was the rumpus upstairs, do you know? It sounded as if +somebody had a bad fall."</p> +<p>"Somebody did get a fall, though not a bad one, I believe."</p> +<p>"Who?" queried the editor briefly.</p> +<p>"I."</p> +<p>In the hall, it occurred to Queed that perhaps he had misled his +chief a little, though speaking the literal truth. The fall that +some <i>body</i> had gotten was indeed nothing much, for people's +bodies counted for nothing so long as they kept them under. But the +fall that this body's self-esteem had gotten was no such trivial +affair. It struck the young man as decidedly curious that the worst +tumble his pride had ever received had come to him through his +body, that part of him which he had always treated with the most +systematic contempt.</p> +<p>The elevator received him, and in it, as luck would have it, +stood a tall young man whom he knew quite well.</p> +<p>"Hello, there, Doc!"</p> +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Klinker?"</p> +<p>"Been up chinning your sporting editor, Ragsy Hurd. Trying to +arrange a mill at the Mercury between Smithy of the Y.M.C.A. and +Hank McGurk, the White Plains Cyclone."</p> +<p>"A mill—?"</p> +<p>"Scrap—boxin' match, y' know. Done up your writings for +the day?"</p> +<p>"My newspaper writings—yes."</p> +<p>In the brilliant close quarters of the lift, Klinker was looking +at Mr. Queed narrowly. "Where you hittin' for now? Paynter's?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Walkin'?—That's right. I'll go with you."</p> +<p>As they came out into the street, Klinker said kindly: "You +ain't feelin' good, are you, Doc? You're lookin' white as a +milk-shake."</p> +<p>"I feel reasonably well, thank you. As for color, I have never +had any, I believe."</p> +<p>"I don't guess, the life you lead. Got the headache, haven't +you? Have it about half the time, now don't you, hey?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I have a headache quite frequently, but I never pay any +attention to it."</p> +<p>"Well, you'd ought to. Don't you know the headache is just +nature tipping you off there's something wrong inside? I've been +watching you at the supper table for some time now. That pallor you +got ain't natural pallor. You're pasty, that's right. I'll bet +segars you wake up three mornings out of four feelin' like a dish +of stewed prunes."</p> +<p>"If I do—though of course I can only infer how such a dish +feels—it is really of no consequence, I assure you."</p> +<p>"Don't you fool yourself! It makes a lot of consequence to you. +Ask a doctor, if you don't believe me. But I got your dia'nosis +now, same as a medical man that's right. I know what's your +trouble, Doc, just like you had told me yourself."</p> +<p>"Ah? What, Mr. Klinker?"</p> +<p>"Exercise."</p> +<p>"You mean lack of exercise?"</p> +<p>"I mean," said Klinker, "that you're fadin' out fast for the +need of it."</p> +<p>The two men pushed on up Centre Street, where the march of +home-goers was now beginning to thin out, in a moment of silence. +Queed glanced up at Klinker's six feet of red beef with a flash of +envy which would have been unimaginable to him so short a while ago +as ten minutes. Klinker was physically competent. Nobody could +insult <i>his</i> work and laugh at the merited retribution.</p> +<p>"Come by my place a minute," said Klinker. "I got something to +show you there. You know the shop, o' course?"</p> +<p>No; Mr. Queed was obliged to admit that he did not.</p> +<p>"I'm manager for Stark's," said Klinker, trying not to appear +boastful. "Cigars, mineral waters, and periodicals. And a great +rondy-vooze for the sporting men, politicians, and rounders of the +town, if I do say it. I've seen you hit by the window many's the +time, only your head was so full of studies you never noticed."</p> +<p>"Thank you, I have no time this evening, I fear—"</p> +<p>"Time? It won't take any—it's right the end of this block. +You can't do any studyin' before supper-time, anyhow, because it's +near that now. I got something for you there."</p> +<p>They turned into Stark's, a brilliantly-lit and prettily +appointed little shop with a big soda-water plant at the front. To +a white-coated boy who lounged upon the fount, Klinker spoke winged +words, and the next moment Queed found himself drinking a foaming, +tingling, hair-trigger concoction under orders to put it all down +at a gulp.</p> +<p>They were seated upon a bench of oak and leather upholstery, +with an enormous mirror reproducing their back views to all who +cared to see. Klinker was chewing a tooth-pick; and either a +tooth-pick lasted him a long time, or the number he made away with +in a year was simply stupendous.</p> +<p>"Ever see a gymnasier, Doc?"</p> +<p>No; it seemed that the Doc had not.</p> +<p>"We got one here. There's a big spare room behind the shop. Kind +of a store-room it was, and the Mercuries have fitted it up as a +gymnasier and athletic club. Only they're dead ones and don't use +it much no more. Got kind of a fall this afternoon, didn't you, +Doc?"</p> +<p>"What makes you think that?"</p> +<p>"That eye you got. She'll be a beaut to-morrow—skin's +broke too. A bit of nice raw beefsteak clapped on it right now +would do the world and all for it."</p> +<p>"Oh, it is of no consequence—"</p> +<p>"You think nothing about your body is consequence, Doc, that +only your mind counts, and that's just where you make your mistake. +Your body's got to carry your mind around, and if it lays down on +you, what—"</p> +<p>"But I have no intention of letting my body lie down on me, as +you put it, Mr. Klinker. My health is sound, my +constitution—"</p> +<p>"Forget it, Doc. Can't I look at you and see with my own eyes? +You're committing slow suicide by over-work. That's what it +is."</p> +<p>"As it happens, I am doing nothing of the sort. I have been +working exactly this way for twelve years."</p> +<p>"Then all the bigger is the overdue bill nature's got against +you, and when she does hit you she'll hit to kill. Where'll your +mind and your studies be when we've planted your body down under +the sod?"</p> +<p>Mr. Queed made no reply. After a moment, preparing to rise, he +said: "I am obliged to you for that drink. It is rather +remarkable—"</p> +<p>"Headache all gone, hey?"</p> +<p>"Almost entirely. I wish you would give me the name of the +medicine. I will make a memorandum—"</p> +<p>"Nix," said Klinker.</p> +<p>"Nix? Nux I have heard of, but ..."</p> +<p>"Hold on," laughed Klinker, as he saw Queed preparing to enter +Nix in his note-book. "That ain't the name of it, and I ain't going +to give it to you. Why, that slop only covers up the trouble, +Doc—does more harm than good in the long run. You got to go +deeper and take away the cause. Come back here and I'll show you +your real medicine."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid—"</p> +<p>"Aw, don't flash that open-faced clock of yours on me. That's +your trouble, Doc—matching seconds against your studies. It +won't take a minute, and you can catch it up eating supper faster +if you feel you got to."</p> +<p>Queed, curious, as well as decidedly impressed by Klinker's sure +knowledge in a field where he was totally ignorant, was persuaded. +The two groped their way down a long dark passage at the rear of +the shop, and into a large room like a cavern. Klinker lit a +flaring gas-jet and made a gesture.</p> +<p>"The Mercury Athletic Club gymnasier and sporting-room."</p> +<p>It was a basement room, with two iron-grated windows at the +back. Two walls were lined with stout shelves, partially filled +with boxes. The remaining space, including wall-space, was occupied +by the most curious and puzzling contrivances that Queed had ever +seen. Out of the glut of enigmas there was but one thing—a +large mattress upon the floor—that he could recognize without +a diagram.</p> +<p>"Your caretaker sleeps here, I perceive."</p> +<p>Klinker laughed. "Look around you, Doc. Take a good gaze."</p> +<p>Doc obeyed. Klinker picked up a "sneaker" from the floor and +hurled it with deadly precision at a weight-and-pulley across the +room.</p> +<p>"There's your medicine, Doc!"</p> +<p>Orange-stick in mouth, he went around like a museum guide, +introducing the beloved apparatus to the visitor under its true +names and uses, the chest-weights, dumb-bells and Indian clubs, +flying-rings, a rowing-machine, the horizontal and parallel bars, +the punching-bag and trapeze. Klinker lingered over the ceremonial; +it was plain that the gymnasier was very dear to him. In fact, he +loved everything pertaining to bodily exercise and manly sport; he +caressed a boxing-glove as he never caressed a lady's hand; the +smell of witch-hazel on a hard bare limb was more titillating to +him than any intoxicant. The introduction over, Klinker sat down +tenderly on the polished seat of the rowing-machine, and addressed +Doctor Queed, who stood with an academic arm thrown gingerly over +the horizontal bar.</p> +<p>"There's your medicine, Doe. And if you don't take +it—well, it may be the long good-by for yours before the +flowers bloom again."</p> +<p>"How do you mean, Mr. Klinker—there is my medicine?"</p> +<p>"I mean, you need half an hour to an hour's hardest kind of work +right here every day, reg'lar as meals."</p> +<p>Queed started as though he had been stung. He cleared his throat +nervously.</p> +<p>"No doubt that would be beneficial—in a sense, but I +cannot afford to take the time from My Book—"</p> +<p>"That's where you got it dead wrong. You can't afford not to +take the time. Any doctor'll tell you the same as me, that you'll +never finish your book at all at the clip you're hitting now. +You'll go with nervous prostration, and it'll wipe you out like a +fly. Why, Doc," said Klinker, impressively, "you don't realize the +kind of life you're leading—all indoors and sedentary and +working twenty hours a day. I come in pretty late some nights, but +I never come so late that there ain't a light under your door. A +man can't stand it, I tell you, playing both ends against the +middle that away. You got to pull up, or it's out the door feet +first for you."</p> +<p>Queed said uneasily: "One important fact escapes you, Mr. +Klinker. I shall never let matters progress so far. When I feel my +health giving way—"</p> +<p>"Needn't finish—heard it all before. They think they're +going to stop in time, but they never do. Old prostration catches +'em first every crack. You think an hour a day exercise would be +kind of a waste, ain't that right? Kind of a dead loss off'n your +book and studies?"</p> +<p>"I certainly do feel—"</p> +<p>"Well, you're wrong. Listen here. Don't you feel some days as if +mebbe you could do better writing and harder writing if only you +didn't feel so mean?"</p> +<p>"Well ... I will frankly confess that sometimes—"</p> +<p>"Didn't I know it! Do you know what, Doc? If you knocked out a +little time for reg'lar exercise, you'd find when bedtime came, +that you'd done better work than you ever did before."</p> +<p>Queed was silent. He had the most logical mind in the world, and +now at last Klinker had produced an argument that appealed to his +reason.</p> +<p>"I'll put it to you as a promise," said Klinker, eyeing him +earnestly. "One hour a day exercise, and you do more work in +twenty-four hours than you're doing now, besides feelin' one +hundred per cent better all the time."</p> +<p>Still Queed was silent. <i>One hour a day!</i></p> +<p>"Try it for only a month," said Klinker the Tempter.</p> +<p>"I'll help you—glad to do it—I need the drill +myself. Gimme an hour a day for just a month, and I'll bet you the +drinks you wouldn't quit after that for a hundred dollars."</p> +<p>Queed turned away from Klinker's honest eyes, and wrestled the +bitter thing out. <i>Thirty Hours stolen from His Book!...</i> +Yesterday, even an hour ago, he would not have considered such an +outrage for a moment. But now, driving him irresistibly toward the +terrible idea, working upon him far more powerfully than his +knowledge of headache, even than Klinker's promise of a net gain in +his working ability, was this new irrationally disturbing knowledge +that he was a physical incompetent.... If he had begun systematic +exercise ten years ago, probably he could thrash Mr. Pat +to-day.</p> +<p>Yet an hour a day is not pried out of a sacred schedule of work +without pains and anguish, and it was with a grim face that the Doc +turned back to William Klinker.</p> +<p>"Very well, Mr. Klinker, I will agree to make the experiment, +tentatively—an hour a day for thirty days only."</p> +<p>"Right for you, Doc! You'll never be sorry—take it from +me."</p> +<p>Klinker was a brisk, efficient young man. The old gang that had +fitted out the gymnasium had drifted away, and the thought of going +once more into regular training, with a pupil all his own, was +breath to his nostrils. He assumed charge of the ceded hour with +skilled sureness. Rain or shine, the Doctor was to take half an +hour's hard walking in the air every day, over and above the walk +to the office. Every afternoon at six—at which hour the +managerial duties at Stark's terminated—he was to report in +the gym for half an hour's vigorous work on the apparatus. This +iron-clad regime was to go into effect on the morrow.</p> +<p>"I'll look at you stripped," said Klinker, eyeing his new pupil +thoughtfully, "and see first what you need. Then I'll lay out a +reg'lar course for you—exercises for all parts of the body. +Got any trunks?"</p> +<p>Queed looked surprised. "I have one small one—a steamer +trunk, as it is called."</p> +<p>Klinker explained what he meant, and the Doctor feared that his +wardrobe contained no such article.</p> +<p>"Ne'mmind. I can fit you up with a pair. Left Hand Tom's they +used to be, him that died of the scarlet fever Thanksgiving. And +say, Doc!"</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"Here's the first thing I'll teach you. Never mister your +sparring-partner."</p> +<p>The Doc thought this out, laboriously, and presently said: "Very +well, William."</p> +<p>"Call me Buck, the same as all the boys."</p> +<p>Klinker came toward him holding out an object made of red +velveteen about the size of a pocket handkerchief.</p> +<p>"Put these where you can find them to-morrow. You can have 'em. +Left Hand Tom's gone where he don't need 'em any more."</p> +<p>"What are they? What does one do with them?"</p> +<p>"They're your trunks. You wear 'em."</p> +<p>"Where? On—what portion, I mean?"</p> +<p>"They're like little pants," said Klinker.</p> +<p>The two men walked home together over the frozen streets. Queed +was taciturn and depressed. He was annoyed by Klinker's presence +and irritated by his conversation; he wanted nothing in the world +so much as to be let alone. But honest Buck Klinker remained +unresponsive to his mood. All the way to Mrs. Paynter's he told his +new pupil grisly stories of men he had known who had thought that +they could work all day and all night, and never take any exercise. +Buck kindly offered to show the Doc their graves.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Formal Invitation to Fifi to share Queed's Dining-Room +(provided it is very cold upstairs); and First Outrage upon the +Sacred Schedule of Hours.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Queed supped in an impenetrable silence. The swelling rednesses +both above and below his left eye attracted the curious attention +of the boarders, but he ignored their glances, and even Klinker +forbore to address him. The meal done, he ascended to his sacred +chamber, but not alas, to remain.</p> +<p>For a full week, the Scriptorium had been uninhabitable by +night, the hands of authors growing too numb there to write. On +this night, conditions were worse than ever; the usual valiant +essay was defeated with more than the usual case. Queed fared back +to his dining-room, as was now becoming his melancholy habit. And +to-night the necessity was exceptionally trying, for he found that +the intrusive daughter of the landlady had yet once again spread +her mathematics there before him.</p> +<p>Nor could Fifi this time claim misunderstanding and accident. +She fully expected the coming of Mr. Queed, and had been nervously +awaiting it. The state of mind thus induced was not in the least +favorable to doing algebra successfully or pleasurably. No amount +of bodily comfort could compensate Fifi for having to have it. But +her mother had ruled the situation to-night with a strong hand and +a flat foot. The bedroom was <i>entirely too cold</i> for Fifi. She +must, positively <i>must</i>, go down to the warm and comfortable +dining-room,—do you hear me, Fifi? As for Mr. +Queed—well, if he made himself objectionable, Sharlee would +simply have to give him another good talking to.</p> +<p>Yet Fifi involuntarily cowered as she looked up and murmured: +"Oh—good evening!"</p> +<p>Mr. Queed bowed. In the way of conveying displeasure, he had in +all probability the most expressive face in America.</p> +<p>He passed around to his regular place, disposed his books and +papers, and placed his <i>Silence</i> sign in a fairly conspicuous +position. This followed his usual custom. Yet his manner of making +his arrangements to-night wanted something of his ordinary +aggressive confidence. In fact, his promise to give an hour a day +to exercise lay on his heart like lead, and the lumps on his eye, +large though they were, did not in the least represent the +dimensions of the fall he had received at the hands of Mr. Pat.</p> +<p>Fifi was looking a little more fragile than when we saw her +last, a little more thin-cheeked, a shade more ethereal-eyed. Her +cough was quite bad to-night, and this increased her nervousness. +How could she <i>help</i> from disturbing him with that dry +tickling going on right along in her throat? It had been a trying +day, when everything seemed to go wrong from the beginning. She had +waked up feeling very listless and tired; had been late for school; +had been kept in for Cicero. In the afternoon she had been going to +a tea given to her class at the school, but her mother said her +cold was too bad for her to go, and besides she really felt too +tired. She hadn't eaten any supper, and had been quite cross with +her mother in their talk about the dining-room, which was the worst +thing that had happened at all. And now at nine o'clock she wanted +to go to bed, but her algebra would not, <i>would not</i> come +right, and life was horrible, and she was unfit to live it anyway, +and she wished she was ...</p> +<p>"You are crying," stated a calm young voice across the +table.</p> +<p>Brought up with a cool round turn, greatly mortified, Fifi +thought that the best way to meet the emergency was just to say +nothing.</p> +<p>"What is the matter?" demanded the professorial tones.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing," she said, winking back the tears and trying to +smile, apologetically—"just silly reasons. I—I've spent +an hour and ten minutes on a problem here, and it won't come right. +I'm—sorry I disturbed you."</p> +<p>There was a brief silence. Mr. Queed cleared his throat.</p> +<p>"You cannot solve your problem?"</p> +<p>"I haven't <i>yet</i>," she sniffed bravely, "but of course I +will <i>soon</i>. Oh, I understand it very well...."</p> +<p>She kept her eyes stoutly fixed upon her book, which indicated +that not for worlds would she interrupt him further. Nevertheless +she felt his large spectacles upon her. And presently he astonished +her by saying, resignedly—doubtless he had decided that thus +could the virginal calm be most surely and swiftly +restored:—</p> +<p>"Bring me your book. I will solve your problem."</p> +<p>"Oh!" said Fifi, choking down a cough. And then, "Do you know +all about algebra, too?"</p> +<p>It seemed that Mr. Queed in his younger days had once made quite +a specialty of mathematics, both lower, like Fifi's, and also far +higher. The child's polite demurs were firmly overridden. Soon she +was established in a chair at his side, the book open on the table +between them.</p> +<p>"Indicate the problem," said Mr. Queed.</p> +<p>Fifi indicated it: No. 71 of the collection of stickers known as +Miscellaneous Review. It read as follows:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>71. A laborer having built 105 rods of stone fence, found that +if he had built 2 rods less a day he would have been 6 days longer +in completing the job. How many rods a day did he build?</p> +</div> +<p>Queed read this through once and announced: "He built seven rods +a day."</p> +<p>Fifi stared. "Why—how in the world, Mr Queed—"</p> +<p>"Let us see if I am right. Proceed. Read me what you have +written down."</p> +<p>"Let <i>x</i> equal the number of rods he built each day," began +Fifi bravely.</p> +<p>"Proceed."</p> +<p>"Then <i>105</i> divided by <i>x</i> equals number of days +consumed. And <i>105</i> divided by <i>x - 2</i> equals number of +days consumed, if he had built <i>2</i> rods less a day."</p> +<p>"Of course."</p> +<p>"And (<i>105</i> ÷ <i>x - 2</i>) + <i>6</i> = number of +days consumed if it had taken him six days longer."</p> +<p>"Nothing of the sort."</p> +<p>Fifi coughed. "I don't see why, exactly."</p> +<p>"When the text says 'six days longer,' it means longer than +what?"</p> +<p>"Why—longer than ever."</p> +<p>"Doubtless. But you must state it in terms of the problem."</p> +<p>"In terms of the problem," murmured Fifi, her red-brown head +bowed over the bewildering book—"in terms of the +problem."</p> +<p>"Of course," said her teacher, "there is but one thing which +longer can mean; that is longer than the original rate of progress. +Yet you add the six to the time required under the new rate of +progress."</p> +<p>"I—I'm really afraid I don't quite see. I'm dreadfully +stupid, I know—"</p> +<p>"Take it this way then. You have set down here two facts. One +fact is the number of days necessary under the old rate of +progress; the other is the number of days necessary under the new +rate. Now what is the difference between them?"</p> +<p>"Why—isn't that just what I don't know?"</p> +<p>"I can't say what you don't know. This is something that +<i>I</i> know very well."</p> +<p>"But you know everything," she murmured.</p> +<p>Without seeking to deny this, Queed said: "It tells you right +there in the book."</p> +<p>"I don't see it," said Fifi, nervously looking high and low, not +only in the book but all over the room.</p> +<p>The young man fell back on the inductive method: "What is that +six then?"</p> +<p>"Oh! <i>Now</i> I see. It's the difference in the number of days +consumed—isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Naturally. Now put down your equation. No, no! The greater the +rate of progress, the fewer the number of days. Do not attempt to +subtract the greater from the less."</p> +<p>Now Fifi figured swimmingly:—</p> +<p>(105/(x-2)) - (105/x) = 6<br /> +<br /> +105x - 105x + 210 = 6x^2 - 12x<br /> +<br /> +6x^2 - 12x - 210 = 0<br /> +<br /> +6x^2 - 12x - 210 = 0<br /> +<br /> +x^2 - 2x - 35 = 0<br /> +<br /> +(x - 7) (X + 5) = 0<br /> +<br /> +x = 7 or -5</p> +<p>She smiled straight into his eyes, sweetly and fearlessly. +"Seven! Just what you said! Oh, if I could only do them like you! +I'm ever and ever so much obliged, Mr. Queed—and now I can go +to bed."</p> +<p>Mr. Queed avoided Fifi's smile; he obviously deliberated.</p> +<p>"If you have any more of these terrible difficulties," he said +slowly, "it isn't necessary for you to sit there all evening and +cry over them. You ... may ask me to show you."</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>could</i> I really! Thank you ever so much. But no, I +won't be here, you see. I didn't mean to come to-night—truly, +Mr. Queed—I know I bother you <i>so</i>—only Mother +made me."</p> +<p>"Your mother made you? Why?"</p> +<p>"Well—it's right cold upstairs, you know," said Fifi, +gathering up her books, "and she thought it might not be very good +for my cough...."</p> +<p>Queed glanced impatiently at the girl's delicate face. A frown +deepened on his brow; he cleared his throat with annoyance.</p> +<p>"Oh, I am willing," he said testily, "for you to bring your work +here whenever it is very cold upstairs."</p> +<p>"Oh, how good you are, Mr. Queed!" cried Fifi, staggered by his +nobility. "But of course I can't think of bothering—"</p> +<p>"I should not have asked you," he interrupted her, irritably, +"if I had not been willing for you to come."</p> +<p>But for all boarders, their comfort and convenience, Fifi had +the great respect which all of us feel for the source of our +livelihood; and, stammering grateful thanks, she again assured him +that she could not make such a nuisance of herself. However, of +course Mr. Queed had his way, as he always did.</p> +<p>This point definitely settled, he picked up his pencil, which +was his way of saying, "And now, for heaven's +sake—good-night!" But Fifi, her heart much softened toward +him, stood her ground, the pile of school-books tucked under her +arm.</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed—I—wonder if you won't let me get +something to put on your forehead? That bruise is so +dreadful—"</p> +<p>"Oh, no! No! It's of no consequence whatever."</p> +<p>"But I don't think you can have noticed how bad it is. Please +let me, Mr. Queed. Just a little dab of arnica or +witch-hazel—"</p> +<p>"My forehead does very well as it is, I assure you."</p> +<p>Fifi turned reluctantly. "Indeed something on it would make it +get well so <i>much</i> faster. I wish you would—"</p> +<p>Ah! There was a thought. As long as he had this bruise people +would be bothering him about it. It was a world where a man +couldn't even get a black eye without a thousand busybodies +commenting on it.</p> +<p>"If you are certain that its healing will be +hastened—"</p> +<p>"Positive!" cried Fifi happily, and vanished without more +speech.</p> +<p>One Hour a Day to be given to Bodily Exercise.... How long, O +Lord, how long!</p> +<p>Fifi returned directly with white cloths, scissors, and two +large bottles.</p> +<p>"I won't take hardly a minute—you see! Listen, Mr. Queed. +One of these bottles heals fairly well and doesn't hurt at all +worth mentioning. That's witch-hazel. The other heals very well and +fast, but stings—well, a lot; and that's turpentine. Which +will you take?"</p> +<p>"The turpentine," said Mr. Queed in a martyr's voice.</p> +<p>Fifi's hands were very deft. In less than no time, she made a +little lint pad, soaked it in the pungent turpentine, applied it to +the unsightly swelling, and bound it firmly to the young man's head +with a snowy band. In all of Mr. Queed's life, this was the first +time that a woman had ministered to him. To himself, he +involuntarily confessed that the touch of the girl's hands upon his +forehead was not so annoying as you might have expected.</p> +<p>Fifi drew off and surveyed her work sympathetically yet +professionally. The effect of the white cloth riding aslant over +the round glasses and academic countenance was wonderfully rakish +and devil-may-care.</p> +<p>"Do you feel the sting much so far?"</p> +<p>"A trifle," said the Doctor.</p> +<p>"It works up fast to a kind of—climax, as I remember, and +then slowly dies away. The climax will be pretty bad—I'm so +sorry! But when it's at its worst just say to yourself, 'This is +doing me lots and lots of good,' and then you won't mind so +much."</p> +<p>"I will follow the directions," said he, squirming in his +chair.</p> +<p>"Thank you for letting me do it, and for the algebra, +and—good-night."</p> +<p>"Good-night."</p> +<p>He immediately abandoned all pretense of working. To him it +seemed that the climax of the turpentine had come instantly; there +was no more working up about it than there was about a live red +coal. The mordant tooth bit into his blood; he rose and tramped the +floor, muttering savagely to himself. But he would not pluck the +hateful thing off, no, no—for that would have been an +admission that he was wrong in putting it on; and he was never +wrong.</p> +<p>So Bylash, reading one of Miss Jibby's works in the parlor, and +pausing for a drink of water at the end of a glorious chapter, +found him tramping and muttering. His flying look dared Bylash to +address him, and Bylash prudently took the dare. But he poured his +drink slowly, stealing curious glances and endeavoring to catch the +drift of the little Doctor's murmurings.</p> +<p>In this attempt he utterly failed, because why? Obviously +because the Doctor cursed exclusively in the Greek and Latin +languages.</p> +<p>In five minutes, Queed was upon his work again. Not that the +turpentine was yet dying slowly away, as Fifi had predicted that it +would. On the contrary it burned like the fiery furnace of Shadrach +and Abednego. But <i>One Hour a Day to be given to Bodily +Exercise!</i>... Oh, every second must be made to count now, +whether one's head was breaking into flame or not.</p> +<p>Whatever his faults or foibles, Mr. Queed was captain of his +soul. But the fates were against him to-night. In half an hour, +when the sting—they called this conflagration a +sting!—was beginning to get endurable and the pencil to move +steadily, the door opened and in strode Professor Nicolovius; he, +it seemed, wanted matches. Why under heaven, if a man wanted +matches, couldn't he buy a thousand boxes and store them in piles +in his room?</p> +<p>The old professor apologized blandly for his intrusion, but +seemed in no hurry to make the obvious reparation. He drew a match +along the bottom of the mantle-shelf, eyeing the back of the little +Doctor's head as he did so, and slowly lit a cigar.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry to see that you've met with an accident, Mr. Queed. +Is there anything, perhaps, that I might do?"</p> +<p>"Nothing at all, thanks," said Queed, so indignantly that +Nicolovius dropped the subject at once.</p> +<p>The star-boarder of Mrs. Paynter's might have been fifty-five or +he might have been seventy, and his clothes had long been the +secret envy of Mr. Bylash. He leaned against the mantel at his +ease, blowing blue smoke.</p> +<p>"You find this a fairly pleasant place to sit of an evening, I +daresay!" he purred, presently.</p> +<p>The back of the young man's head was uncompromisingly stern. "I +might as well try to write in the middle of Centre Street."</p> +<p>"So?" said Nicolovius, not catching his drift. "I should have +thought that—"</p> +<p>"The interruptions," said Queed, "are constant."</p> +<p>The old professor laughed. "Upon my word, I don't blame you for +saying that. The gross communism of a boarding-house ... it does +gall one at times! So far as I am concerned, I relieve you of it at +once. Good-night."</p> +<p>The afternoon before Nicolovius had happened to walk part of the +way downtown with Mr. Queed, and had been favored with a fair +amount of his stately conversation. He shut the door now somewhat +puzzled by the young man's marked curtness; but then Nicolovius +knew nothing about the turpentine.</p> +<p>The broken evening wore on, with progress slower than the +laborer's in Problem 71, when he decided to build two rods less a +day. At eleven, Miss Miller, who had been to the theatre, breezed +in; she wanted a drink of water. At 11.45—Queed's open watch +kept accurate tally—there came Trainer Klinker, who, having +sought his pupil vainly in the Scriptorium, retraced his steps to +rout him out below. At sight of the tall bottle in Klinker's hand +Queed shrank, fearing that Fifi had sent him with a second dose of +turpentine. But the bottle turned out to contain merely a rare +unguent just obtained by Klinker from his friend Smithy, the +physical instructor at the Y.M.C.A., and deemed surprisingly +effective for the development of the academic bicep.</p> +<p>At last there was blessed quiet, and he could write again. The +city slept; the last boarder was abed; the turpentine had become a +peace out of pain; only the ticking of the clock filtered into the +perfect calm of the dining-room. The little Doctor of Mrs. +Paynter's stood face to face with his love, embraced his heart's +desire. He looked into the heart of Science and she gave freely to +her lord and master. Sprawled there over the Turkey-red cloth, +which was not unhaunted by the ghosts of dead dinners, he became +chastely and divinely happy. His mind floated away into the +empyrean; he saw visions of a far more perfect Society; dreamed +dreams of the ascending spiral whose law others had groped at, but +he would be the first to formulate; caught and fondled the secret +of the whole great Design; reduced it to a rule-of-thumb to do his +bidding; bestrode the whole world like a great Colossus....</p> +<p>From which flight he descended with a thud to observe that it +was quarter of two o'clock, and the dining-room was cold with the +dying down of the Latrobe, and the excellent reading-lamp in the +death-throes of going out.</p> +<p>He went upstairs in the dark, annoyed with himself for having +overstayed his bedtime. Long experimentation had shown him that the +minimum of sleep he could get along with to advantage was six and +one-half hours nightly. This meant bed at 1.30 exactly, and he +hardly varied it five minutes in a year. To his marrow he was +systematic; he was as definite as an adding-machine, as practical +as a cash register. But even now, on this exceptional night, he did +not go straight to bed. Something still remained to be +accomplished: an outrage upon his sacred Schedule.</p> +<p>In the first halcyon days at Mrs. Paynter's, before the board +question ever came up at all, the iron-clad Schedule of Hours under +which he was composing his great work had stood like this:</p> +<p>8.20 Breakfast<br /> +8.40 Evolutionary Sociology<br /> +1.30 Dinner<br /> +2 Evolutionary Sociology<br /> +7 Supper<br /> +7.20 to 1.30 Evolutionary Sociology</p> +<p>But the course of true love never yet ran smooth, and this +schedule was too ideal to stand. First the <i>Post</i> had come +along and nicked a clean hour out of it, and now his Body had +unexpectedly risen and claimed yet another hour. And, beyond even +this ... some devilish whim had betrayed him to-night into offering +his time for the service and uses of the landlady's daughter in the +puling matter of algebra.</p> +<p>No ... <i>no!</i> He would not put that in. The girl could not +be so selfish as to take advantage of his over-generous impulse. +She <i>must</i> understand that his time belonged to the ages and +the race, not to the momentary perplexities of a high school +dunce.... At the worst it would be only five minutes here and +there—say ten minutes a week; forty minutes a month. No, no! +He would not put that in.</p> +<p>But the hour of Bodily Exercise could not be so evaded. It must +go in. On land or sea there was no help for that. For thirty days +henceforward at the least—and a voice within him whispered +that it would be for much longer—his Schedule must stand like +this:</p> +<p>8.20 Breakfast<br /> +8.40 Evolutionary Sociology<br /> +1.30 Dinner<br /> +2 Evolutionary Sociology<br /> +4.45 to 5.15 Open-Air Pedestrianism<br /> +5.15 to 6.15 The <i>Post</i><br /> +6.15 to 6.45 Klinker's Exercises for all Parts of the Body<br /> +7 Supper<br /> +7.20 Evolutionary Sociology</p> +<p>Hand clasped in his hair, Queed stared long at this wreckage +with a sense of foreboding and utter despondency. Doubtless Mr. +Pat, who was at that moment peacefully pulling a pipe over his last +galleys at the <i>Post</i> office, would have been astonished to +learn what havoc his accursed fleas had wrought with the just +expectations of posterity.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Of Charles Gardiner West, President-Elect of Blaines College, +and his Ladies Fair: all in Mr. West's Lighter Manner.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The closing German of the Thursday Cotillon, hard upon the +threshold of a late Lent, was a dream of pure delight. Six of them +in the heart of every season since 1871, these Germans have become +famous wherever the light fantastic toe of aristocracy trips and +eke is tripped. They are the badge of quality, and the test of it, +the sure scaling-rod by which the frightened débutante may +measure herself at last, to ask of her mirror that night, with who +can say what tremors: "<i>Am I a success?</i>" Over these balls +strangers go mad. They come from immense distances to attend them, +sometimes with superciliousness; are instantly captivated; and +returning to their homes, wherever they may be, sell out their +businesses for a song and move on, to get elected if they can, +which does not necessarily follow.</p> +<p>Carriages, in stately procession, disembarked their precious +freight; the lift, laden with youth and beauty, shot up and down +like a glorious Jack-in-the-Box; over the corridors poured a stream +of beautiful maidens and handsome gentlemen, to separate for their +several tiring-rooms, and soon to remeet in the palm-decked +vestibule. Within the great room, couples were already dancing; +Fetzy's Hungarians on a dais, concealed behind a wild thicket of +growing things, were sighing out a wonderful waltz; rows of +white-covered chairs stood expectantly on all four sides of the +room; and the chaperones, august and handsome, stood in a stately +line to receive and to welcome. And to them came in salutation +Charles Gardiner West and, beside him, the lady whom he honored +with his hand that evening, Miss Millicent Avery, late of Maunch +Chunk, but now of Ours.</p> +<p>They made their devoirs to the dowagers; silently they chose +their seats, which he bound together with a handkerchief in a true +lovers' knot; and, Fetzy's continuing its heavenly work, he put his +arm about her without speech, and they floated away upon the +rhythmic tide.</p> +<p>At last her voice broke the golden silence: "I feel enormously +happy to-night. I don't know why."</p> +<p>The observation might seem unnoteworthy to the casual, but it +carried them all around the room again.</p> +<p>"Fortune is good to me," said he, as lightly as he could, "to +let me be with you when you feel like that."</p> +<p>He had never seen her so handsome; the nearness of her beauty +intoxicated him; her voice was indolent, provocative. She was +superbly dressed in white, and on her rounded breast nodded his +favor, a splendid corsage of orchid and lily-of-the-valley.</p> +<p>"Fortune?" she queried. "Don't you think that men bring these +things to pass for themselves?"</p> +<p>They had made the circle on that, too, before West said: "I +wonder if you begin to understand what a power you have of bringing +happiness to me."</p> +<p>He looked, and indeed, for the transient moment, he felt, like a +man who must have his answer, for better or worse, within the hour. +She saw his look, and her eyes fell before it, not wholly because +she knew how to do that to exactly the best advantage. Few persons +would have mistaken Miss Avery for a wholly inexperienced and +unsophisticated girl. But how was she to know that that same look +had risen in the eyes of West, and that same note, obviously +sincere, broken suddenly into his pleasant voice, for many, many of +the fair?</p> +<p>The music died in a splendid crash, and they threaded their way +to their seats, slowly and often stopped, across the crowded floor. +Many eyes followed them as they walked. She was still "new" to us; +she was beautiful; she was her own young lady, and something about +her suggested that she would be slightly unsafe for boys, the +headstrong, and the foolish; rumor made her colossally wealthy. As +for him, he was the glass of fashion and the mould of form, and +much more than that besides. Of an old name but a scanty fortune, +he had won his place by his individual merits; chiefly, perhaps, +for so wags the world, by an exterior singularly prepossessing and +a manner that was a possession above rubies. His were good looks of +the best fashion of men's good looks; not a tall man, he yet gave +the effect of tallness, so perfect was his carriage, so handsome +his address. And he was as clever as charming; cultured as the +world knows culture; literary as the term goes; nor was there any +one who made a happier speech than he, whether in the forum or +around the festal board. Detractors, of course, he had—as +which of those who raise their heads above the dead level have +not?—but they usually contented themselves with saying, as +Buck Klinker had once said, that his manners were a little too good +to be true. To most he seemed a fine type of the young American of +the modern South; a brave gentleman; a true Democrat with all his +honors; and, though he had not yet been tested in any position of +responsibility, a rising man who held the future in his hand.</p> +<p>They took their seats, and at last he freed himself from the +unsteadying embarrassment which had shaken him at the first sight +of her under the brilliant lights of the ballroom.</p> +<p>"Two things have happened to make this seventh of March a +memorable day for me," said he. "Two great honors have come to me. +They are both for your ear alone."</p> +<p>She flung upon him the masked battery of her eyes. They were +extraordinary eyes, gray and emerald, not large, but singularly +long. He looked fully into them, and she slowly smiled.</p> +<p>"The other honor," said Charles Gardiner West, "is of a commoner +kind. They want to make me president of Blaines College."</p> +<p>"Oh—really!" said Miss Avery, and paused. "And shall you +let them do it?"</p> +<p>He nodded, suddenly thoughtful and serious. "Long before snow +flies, Semple & West will be Semple and Something else. They'll +elect me in June. I needn't say that no one must know of this +now—but you."</p> +<p>"Of course. It is a great honor," she said, with faint +enthusiasm. "But why are you giving up your business? Doesn't it +interest you?"</p> +<p>He made a large gesture. "Oh, it interests me.... But what does +it all come to, at the last? A man aspires to find some better use +for his abilities than dollar-baiting, don't you think?"</p> +<p>Miss Avery privately thought not, though she certainly did not +like his choice of terms.</p> +<p>"If a man became the greatest stock-jobber in the world, who +would remember him after he was gone? Miss Avery, I earnestly want +to serve. My deepest ambition is to leave some mark for the better +upon my environment, my city, and my State. I am baring my small +dream for you to look at, you see. Now this little college ..."</p> +<p>But a daring youth by the name of Beverley Byrd bore Miss Avery +away for the figure which was just then forming, and the little +college hung in the air for the nonce. Mr. West was so fortunate as +to secure the hand of Miss Weyland for the figure, he having taken +the precaution to ask that privilege when he greeted her some +minutes since. Couple behind couple they formed, the length of the +great room, and swung away on a brilliant march.</p> +<p>"It's going to be a delicious German—can't you tell by the +<i>feel</i>?" began Sharlee, doing the march with a +<i>deux-temps</i> step. "I'm so glad to see you, for it seems ages +since we met, though, you know, it was only last week. Is not that +a nice speech for greeting? Only I must tell you that I've said it +to four other men already, and the evening is yet young."</p> +<p>"Is there nothing in all the world that you can say, quite new +and special, for me?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes! For one thing your partner to-night is altogether the +loveliest thing I ever saw. And for another—"</p> +<p>"I am listening."</p> +<p>"For another, <i>her</i> partner to-night is quite the nicest +man in all this big, big room."</p> +<p>"And how many men have you said that to to-night, here in the +youth of the evening?"</p> +<p>But the figure had reached that point where the paths of +partners must diverge for a space, and at this juncture Sharlee +whirled away from him. Around and up the room swept the long file +of low-cut gowns and pretty faces, and step for step across the +floor moved a similar line of swallow-tail and masculinity. At the +head of the room the two lines curved together again, round meeting +round, and here, in good time, the lovely billow bore on Sharlee, +who slipped her little left hand into West's expectant right with +the sweetest air in the world.</p> +<p>"Nobody but you, Charles Gardiner West," said she.</p> +<p>The whistle blew; the music changed; and off they went upon the +dreamy valse.</p> +<p>There are dancers in this world, and other dancers; but Sharlee +was the sort that old ladies stop and watch. Of her infinite poetry +of motion it is only necessary to say that she could make even "the +Boston" look graceful; as witness her now. In that large room, +detectives could have found men who thought Sharlee decidedly +prettier than Miss Avery. Her look was not languorous; her voice +was not provocative; her eyes were not narrow and tip-tilted; they +did not look dangerous in the least, unless you so regard all +extreme pleasure derived from looking at anything in the nature of +eyes. Nor was there anything in the least businesslike, official, +or stenographic about her manner. If her head bulged with facts +about the treatment of the deficient classes, no hint of that +appeared in her talk at parties. Few of the young men she danced +with thought her clever, and this shows how clever she really was. +For there are men in this world who will run ten city blocks in any +weather to avoid talking to a woman who knows more than they do, +and knows it, and shows that she knows that she knows it.</p> +<p>Charles Gardiner West looked down at Sharlee; and the music +singing in his blood, and the measure that they trod together, was +all a part of something splendid that belonged to them alone in the +world. Another man at such a moment would have contented himself +with a pretty speech, but West gave his sacred confidence. He told +Sharlee about the presidency of Blaines College.</p> +<p>Sharlee did not have to ask what he would do with such an offer. +She recognized at sight the opportunity for service he had long +sought; and she so sincerely rejoiced and triumphed in it for him +that his heart grew very tender toward her, and he told her all his +plans; how he meant to make of Blaines College a great enlightened +modern institution which should turn out a growing army of brave +young men for the upbuilding of the city and the state.</p> +<p>"They elect me the first of June. Of course I am supposed to +know nothing about it yet, and you must keep it as a great secret +if you please. I give up my business in April. The next month goes +to my plans, arranging and laying out a great advertising campaign +for the September opening. Early in June I shall sail for Europe, +nominally for a little rest, but really to study the school systems +of the old world. The middle of August will find me at my new desk, +oh, so full of enthusiasms and high hopes!"</p> +<p>"It's splendid.... Oh, how fine!" pæaned she.</p> +<p>Upon the damask wrapping of Sharlee's chair lay a great armful +of red, red roses, the gift of prodigal young Beverley Byrd, and +far too large to carry. She lifted them up; scented their +fragrance; selected and broke a perfect flower from its long stem; +and held it out with a look.</p> +<p>"The Assistant Secretary of the State Department of Charities +presents her humble duty to President West."</p> +<p>"Ah! Then the president commands his minion to place it tenderly +in his buttonhole."</p> +<p>"Look at the sea of faces ... lorgnettes, too. The minion +<i>dassen't</i>."</p> +<p>"Oh, that we two were Maying!"</p> +<p>"You misread our announcement," said Beverley Byrd, romping up. +"No opening for young men here, Gardy! Butt out."</p> +<p>West left her, his well-shaped head in something of a whirl. In +another minute he was off with Miss Avery upon a gallant +two-step.</p> +<p>Fetzy's played on; the dancers floated or hopped according to +their nature; and presently a waltz faded out and in a breath +converted itself into the march for supper, the same air always for +I don't know how many years.</p> +<p>Miss Avery rose slowly from her seat, a handsome siren shaped, +drilled, fitted, polished from her birth for nothing else than the +beguiling of lordly man. From the heart of her beautiful bouquet +she plucked a spray of perfect lily-of-the-valley, and, eyes upon +her own flowers, held it out to West.</p> +<p>"They are beautiful," she said in her languorous voice. "I +hadn't thanked you for them, had I? Wear this for me, will you +not?" She looked up and her long eyes fell—we need not assume +for the first time—upon the flower in his lapel. "I beg your +pardon," she said, with the slightest change of expression and +voice. "I see that you are already provided. Shall we not go +up?"</p> +<p>Laughing, he plucked a red, red rose from his buttonhole and +jammed it carelessly in his pocket.</p> +<p>"Give it to me."</p> +<p>"Why, it's of no consequence. Flowers quickly fade."</p> +<p>"Won't you understand?... you maddening lady. I've known all +these girls since they were born. When they offer me flowers, shall +I hurt their feelings and refuse? Give it to me."</p> +<p>She shook her head slowly.</p> +<p>"Don't you know that I'll prize it—and why?" said he in a +low voice. "Give it to me."</p> +<p>Their eyes met; hers fluttered down; but she raised them +suddenly and put the flower in his buttonhole, her face so close +that he felt her breath on his cheek.</p> +<p>Beside him at supper, she took up the thread of their earlier +talk.</p> +<p>"If you must give up your business, why shouldn't it be for +something bigger than the college—public life for +instance?"</p> +<p>"I may say," West answered her, "that as yet there has not been +that sturdy demand from the public, that uproarious insistence from +the honest voter ..."</p> +<p>"At dinner the other evening I met one of your fine old +patriarchs, Colonel Cowles. He told us that the new Mayor of this +city, if he was at all the right sort, would go from the City Hall +to the Governorship. And do you know who represents his idea of the +right sort of Mayor?"</p> +<p>West, picking at a bit of duck, said that he hadn't the least +idea.</p> +<p>"So modest—so modest! He said that the city needed a young +progressive man of the better class and the highest character, and +that man was—you. No other, by your leave! The Mayoralty, the +Governorship, the Senate waiting behind that, perhaps—who +knows? Is it wise to bottle one's self up in the blind alley of the +college?"</p> +<p>Thus Delilah: to which Samson replied that a modern college is +by no means a blind alley; that from the presidential retreat he +would keep a close eye upon the march of affairs, doubtless doing +his share toward moulding public opinion through contributions to +the <i>Post</i> and the reviews; that, in fact, public life had +long had an appeal for him, and that if at any time a cry arose in +the land for him to come forward ...</p> +<p>"For a public career," said Delilah, with a sigh, "I should +think you had far rather be editor of the <i>Post</i>, for example, +than head of this college."</p> +<p>Samson made an engaging reply that had to do with Colonel +Cowles. The talk ran off into other channels, but somehow Delilah's +remark stuck in the young man's head.</p> +<p>Soul is not all that flows at the Thursday German, and it has +frequently been noticed that the dance becomes gayest after supper. +But it becomes, too, sadly brief, and <i>Home Sweet Home</i> falls +all too soon upon the enthralled ear. Now began the movement toward +that place, be it never so humble, like which there is none; and +amid the throng gathered in the vestibule before the cloak-rooms, +West again found himself face to face with Miss Weyland with whom +he had stepped many a measure that evening.</p> +<p>"I've been thinking about it lots, President West," said she; +"it grows better all the time. Won't you please teach all your boys +to be very good, and to work hard, and never to grow up to make +trouble for the State Department of Charities."</p> +<p>She had on a carriage-robe of light blue, collared and edged +with white fur, and her arms were as full of red roses as arms +could be.</p> +<p>"But if I do that too well," said he, "what would become of you? +Blaines College shall never blot out the Department of Charities. I +nearly forgot a bit of news. Gloomy news. The <i>Post</i> is going +to fire your little Doctor."</p> +<p>"Ah—<i>no!</i>"</p> +<p>"It looks that way. The directors will take it up definitely in +April. Colonel Cowles is going to recommend it. He says the Doc has +more learning than society requires."</p> +<p>"But don't you think his articles give a—a tone to the +paper—and—?"</p> +<p>"I do; a sombre, awful, majestic tone, if you like, but still +one that ought to be worth something."</p> +<p>Sharlee looked sad, and it was one of her best looks.</p> +<p>"Ah, me! I don't know what will become of him if he is turned +adrift. Could you, <i>could</i> you do anything?"</p> +<p>"I can, and will," said he agreeably. "I think the man's +valuable, and you may count on it that I shall use my influence to +have him kept."</p> +<p>So the Star and the Planet again fought in their courses for Mr. +Queed. West, gazing down at her, overcoat on arm, looked like a +Planet who usually had his way. The Star, too, had strong +inclinations in the same direction. For example, she had noted at +supper the lily-of-the-valley in the Planet's buttonhole, and she +had not been able to see any good reason for that.</p> +<p>Her eyes became dreamy. "How shall I say thank you?... I know. I +must give you one of my pretty flowers for your buttonhole." She +began pulling out one of the glorious roses, but suddenly checked +herself and gazed off pensively into space, a finger at her lip. +"Ah! I thought this gesture seemed strangely familiar, and now I +remember. I gave him a flower once before, and ah, look!... the +president of the college has tossed it away."</p> +<p>West glanced hastily down at his buttonhole. The +lily-of-the-valley was gone; he had no idea where he had lost it, +nor could he now stay to inquire. The rose he took with tender +carefulness from the upper pocket of his waistcoat.</p> +<p>"What did Mademoiselle expect?" said he, with a courtly bow. +"The president wears it over his heart."</p> +<p>Sharlee's smile was a coronation for a man.</p> +<p>"That one was for the president. This new one," said she, +plucking it out, "is for the director and—the man."</p> +<p>This new one, after all, she put into his buttonhole with her +own hands, while he held her great bunch of them. As she turned +away from the dainty ceremony, her color faintly heightened, +Sharlee looked straight into the narrow eyes of Miss Avery, who, +talking with a little knot of men some distance away, had been +watching her closely. The two girls smiled and bowed to each other +with extraordinary sweetness.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Of Fifi on Friendship, and who would be sorry if Queed died; +of Queed's Mad Impulse, sternly overcome; of his Indignant Call +upon Nicolovius, the Old Professor</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>Could I interrupt you for just a minute, Mr. Queed?"</p> +<p>"No. It is not time yet."</p> +<p>"Cicero's so horrid to-night."</p> +<p>"Don't scatter your difficulties, as I've told you before. +Gather them all together and have them ready to present to me at +the proper time. I shall make the usual pause," said Mr. Queed, "at +nine sharp."</p> +<p>Fifi, after all, had been selfish enough to take the little +Doctor at his word. He had both given her the freedom of his +dining-room and ordered her to bring her difficulties to him, +instead of sitting there and noisily crying over them. And she had +done his bidding, night after night. For his part he had stuck +manfully by his moment of reckless generosity, no matter how much +he may have regretted it. He helped Fifi, upon her request, without +spoken protest or censure. But he insisted on doing it after an +iron-clad schedule: Absolute silence until nine o'clock; then an +interlude for the solving of difficulties; absolute silence after +that; then at 9.45 a second interlude for the solving of the last +difficulties of the night. The old rule of the dining-room, the +<i>Silence</i> sign, had been necessarily suspended, but the young +man enforced his schedule of hours far more strictly than the +average railroad.</p> +<p>"Nine o'clock," he announced presently. "Bring me your +difficulties."</p> +<p>Fifi's brain was at low ebb to-night. She came around with +several books, and he jabbed his pencil at her open Cicero with +some contempt.</p> +<p>"You have a fundamental lack of acquaintance with Latin grammar, +Miss—Miss Fifi. You badly need—"</p> +<p>"Why don't you call me Fifi, Mr. Queed? That's what all my +friends call me."</p> +<p>He stared at her startled; she thought his eyes looked almost +terrified. "My dear young lady! <i>I'm</i> not your friend."</p> +<p>A rare color sprang into Fifi's pallid cheeks: "I—I +thought you liked me—from your being so good about helping me +with my lessons—and everything."</p> +<p>Queed cleared his throat. "I do like you—in a way. +Yes—in that way—I like you very well. I will call you +F—Fifi, if you wish. But—friends! Oh, no! They take up +more time than such a man as I can afford."</p> +<p>"I don't think I would take up one bit more time as your friend +than I do now," said Fifi, in a plaintive voice.</p> +<p>Queed, uncomfortably aware of the flying minutes, felt like +saying that that was impossible.</p> +<p>"Oh, I know what I'm talking about, I assure you," said the +possessor of two friends in New York. "I have threshed the whole +question out in a practical way."</p> +<p>"Suppose," said Fifi, "your book came out and you were very +famous, but all alone in the world, without a friend. And you died +and there was not one single person to cry and miss you—would +you think that was a—a successful life?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I suppose so! Yes, yes!"</p> +<p>"But don't—don't you want to have people like you and be +your friend?"</p> +<p>"My dear young lady, it is not a question of what I want. I was +not put here in the world to frivol through a life of gross +pleasure. I have serious work to do in the service of humankind, +and I can do it only by rigid concentration and ruthless +elimination of the unessential. Surely you can grasp that?"</p> +<p>"But—if you died to-morrow," said Fifi, fearfully +fascinated by this aspect of the young man's majestic +isolation,—"don't you know of anybody who'd be really and +truly sorry?"</p> +<p>"Really, I've never thought of it, but doubtless my two friends +in New York would be sorry after their fashion. They, I believe, +are all."</p> +<p>"No they aren't! There's somebody else!"</p> +<p>Queed supposed she was going to say God, but he dutifully +inquired, "Who?"</p> +<p>Fifi looked decidedly disappointed. "I thought you knew," she +said, gazing at him with childlike directness. "Me."</p> +<p>Queed's eyes fell. There was a brief silence. The young man +became aware of a curious sensation in his chest which he did not +understand in the least, but which he was not prepared to describe +as objectionable. To pass over it, and to bring the conversation to +an immediate close, he rapped the open book austerely with his +pencil.</p> +<p>"We must proceed with the difficulties. Let me hear you try the +passage. Come! <i>Quam ob rem, Quirites</i>...."</p> +<p>The nine o'clock difficulties proceeded with, and duly cleared +up, Fifi did not stay for the second, or 9.45, interlude. She +closed <i>M.T. Ciceronis Orationes Selectæ</i>, gathered +together her other paraphernalia, and then she said +suddenly:—</p> +<p>"I may leave school next week, Mr. Queed. I—don't think +I'm going to graduate."</p> +<p>He looked up, surprised and displeased. "Why on earth do you +think that?"</p> +<p>"Well, you see, they don't think I'm strong enough to keep up +the work right now. The Doctor was here to-day, and that's what he +says. It's silly, I think—I know I am."</p> +<p>Queed was playing the devil's tattoo with his pencil, scowling +somewhat nervously. "Did you want to graduate particularly?"</p> +<p>A look of exquisite wistfulness swept the child's face, and was +gone. "Yes, I wanted to—lots. But I won't mind so much after +I've had time to get used to it. You know the way people are."</p> +<p>There was a silence, during which the young man wrestled with +the sudden mad idea of offering to help Fifi with all her lessons +each night—not merely with the difficulties—thus +enabling her to keep up with her class with a minimum of work. +Where such an impulse came from he could not conjecture. He put it +down with a stern hand. Personally, he felt, he might be almost +willing to make this splendid display of altruism; but for the sake +of posterity and the common good, he could not dream of stealing so +much time from the Magnum Opus.</p> +<p>"Well!" he said rather testily. "That is too bad."</p> +<p>"I know you'll be glad not to have me bothering you any more +with my lessons, and all."</p> +<p>"I will not say that."</p> +<p>He looked at Fifi closely, examined her face in a searching, +personal manner, which he had probably never before employed in +reviewing a human countenance.</p> +<p>"You don't look well—no, not in the least. You are not +well. You are a sick girl, and you ought to be in bed at this +moment."</p> +<p>Fifi colored with pleasure. "No," she said, "I am not well."</p> +<p>Indeed Fifi was not well. Her cheek spoke of the three pounds +she had lost since he had first helped her with her difficulties, +and the eleven pounds before that. The hand upon the Turkey-red +cloth was of such transparent thinness that you were sure you could +see the lamplight shining through. Her eyes were startling, they +were so full of other-worldly sweetness and so ringed beneath with +shadows.</p> +<p>"And if I stopped coming down here to work nights," queried Fifi +shamelessly, "would you—miss me?"</p> +<p>"Miss you?"</p> +<p>"You wouldn't—you wouldn't! You'd only be glad not to have +me around—"</p> +<p>"I can truthfully say," said the little Doctor, glancing at his +watch, "that I am sorry you are prevented from graduating."</p> +<p>Fifi retired in a fit of coughing. She and her cough had played +fast and loose with Queed's great work that evening, and, moreover, +it took him a minute and a half to get her out of his mind after +she had gone. Not long afterwards, he discovered that the yellow +sheet he wrote upon was the last of his pad. That meant that he +must count out time to go upstairs and get another one.</p> +<p>Count out time! Why, that was what his whole life had come down +to now! What was it but a steady counting out of ever more and more +time?</p> +<p>The thirty days of hours ceded to Klinker were up, and instead +of at once bringing the prodigal experiment to a close, Doctor +Queed found himself terribly tempted to listen to his trainer's +entreaties and extend by fifty per centum the time allotted to the +gymnasium and open-air pedestrianism. He could not avoid the +knowledge that he felt decidedly better since he had begun the +exercises, especially during these last few days. For a week "the" +headache and he had been strangers. Much more important, he was +conscious of bringing to his work, not indeed a livelier interest, +for that would have been impossible, but an increasing vitality and +an enlarged capacity. He kept the most careful sort of tabs upon +himself, and his records seemed to show, at least for the past week +or two, that his net volume of work had not been seriously lowered +by the hour per day wrung from the Schedule. The exercises, then, +seemed to be paying their own freight. And besides all this, they +were clearly little mile-stones on the path which led men to +physical competency and the ability to protect their articles from +public affront.</p> +<p>Still, an hour out was an hour out—three hundred and +sixty-five hours a year—three months' delay in finishing his +book. Making allowance for increased productivity, a month and a +half's delay. And that was only a beginning. The +<i>Post</i>—Klinker's Exercises for All Parts of the +Body—Klinker himself, who called frequently—now Fifi +(eighteen minutes this very evening)—who could say where the +mad dissipation would end? On some uncharted isle in the far South +Seas, perchance, a man might be let alone to do his work. But in +this boarding-house, it was clear now, the effort was foredoomed +and hopeless. Once make the smallest concession to the infernal +ubiquity of the race, once let the topmost bar of your gate down +never so little, and the whole accursed public descended with a +whoop to romp all over the premises. What, oh, what was the use of +trying?...</p> +<p>"Ah, Mr. Queed—well met! Won't you stop in and see me a +little while? You're enormously busy, I know—but possibly I +can find something to interest you in my poor little collection of +books."</p> +<p>Nicolovius, coming up the stairs, had met Queed coming down, pad +in hand. The impertinence of the old professor's invitation fitted +superbly with the bitterness of the little Doctor's humor. It +pressed the martyr's crown upon his brow till the perfectness of +his grudge against a hateful world lacked nor jot nor tittle.</p> +<p>"Oh, certainly! Certainly!" he replied, with the utmost +indignation.</p> +<p>Nicolovius, bowing courteously, pushed open the door.</p> +<p>It was known in the boarding-house that the remodeling of the +Second Hall Back into a private bathroom for Nicolovius had been +done at his own expense, and rumor had it that for his two +rooms—his "suite," as Mrs. Paynter called it—he paid +down the sum of eighteen dollars weekly. The bed-sitting-room into +which he now ushered his guest was the prettiest room ever seen by +Mr. Queed, who had seen few pretty rooms in his life. Certainly it +was a charming room of a usual enough type: lamp-lit and +soft-carpeted; brass fittings about the fireplace where a coal fire +glowed; a large red reading-table with the customary litter of +books and periodicals; comfortable chairs to sit in; two uncommonly +pretty mahogany bookcases with quaint leaded windows. The crude +central identity about all bedrooms that had hitherto come within +Queed's ken, to wit, the bed, seemed in this remarkable room to be +wanting altogether. For how was he, with his practical +inexperience, to know that the handsome leather lounge in the +bay-window had its in'ards crammed full of sheets, and blankets, +and hinges and collapsible legs?</p> +<p>The young man gravitated instinctively toward the bookcases. His +expert eye swept over the titles, and his gloom lightened a +little.</p> +<p>"You have some fair light reading here, I see," he said, +plucking out a richly bound volume of Lecky's <i>History of +European Morals</i>.</p> +<p>Nicolovius, who was observing him closely, smiled to himself. +"Ah, yes. I'm the merest dilettante, without your happiness of +being a specialist of authority."</p> +<p>The old professor was a tall man, though somewhat stooped and +shrunken, and his head was as bare of hair as the palm of your +hand; which of course was why he wore the black silk skull cap +about the house. On the contrary his mustaches were singularly long +and luxuriant, they, and the short, smart goatee, being of a +peculiar deep auburn shade. His eyes were dark, brilliant, and +slightly sardonic; there were yellow pouches under them and deep +transverse furrows on his forehead; his nose, once powerfully +aquiline, appeared to have been broken cleanly across the middle. +Taken all in all, he was a figure to be noticed in any company.</p> +<p>He came forward on his rubber heels and stood at his guest's +elbow.</p> +<p>"Your field is science, I believe? This Spencer was bound for me +years ago, by a clever devil in Pittsburg, of all places; Huxley, +too. My Darwin is hit and miss. Mill is here; Hume; the American +John Fiske. By chance I have <i>The Wealth of Nations</i>. Here is +a fine old book, Sir Henry Maine's <i>Ancient Law</i>. You know it, +of course?"</p> +<p>"All—all! I know them all," murmured the little Doctor, +standing with two books under his arm and plucking out a third. "I +look back sometimes and stand amazed at the immensity of my +reading. Benjamin Kidd—ha! He won't be in so many libraries +when I get through with him. You are rather strong on political +economy, I see. Alfred Marshall does very well. Nothing much in +philosophy. The <i>Contrat Social</i>—absurd."</p> +<p>"Do you care for these?" asked Nicolovius, pointing to a row of +well-worn works of Bible criticism. "Of course the Germans are far +in the lead in this field, and I am unhappily compelled to rely on +translations. Still I have—"</p> +<p>"Here! Look here! I must have this! I must take this book from +you!" interrupted Queed, rather excitedly dragging a fat blue +volume from a lower shelf. "Crozier's <i>Civilization and +Progress</i>. What a find! I need it badly. I'll just take it with +me now, shall I not? Eh?"</p> +<p>"I shall be only too happy to have you take it," said +Nicolovius, blandly, "and as many others as you care for."</p> +<p>"I'll have another look and see," said Queed. "My copy of +Crozier disappeared some time before I left New York, and so far I +have been unable to replace it. I am showing him up completely.... +Why, this is singular—extraordinary! There's not a history +among all these books—not a volume!"</p> +<p>Nicolovius's expression oddly changed; his whole face seemed to +tighten. "No," he said slowly, "I have some reason to dislike +history."</p> +<p>The young man straightened sharply, horrified. "Why don't you +say at once that you hate Life—Man—the Evolution of the +Race—and be done with it?"</p> +<p>"Would that seem so dreadful to you?" The old man's face wore a +sad smile. "I might say even that, I fear. Try one of those chairs +by the fire. I shall not mind telling you how I came by this +feeling. You don't smoke, I believe! You miss a good deal, but +since you don't know it, how does it matter?"</p> +<p>Nicolovius's haughty aloofness, his rigid uncommunicativeness, +his grand ducal bearing and the fact that he paid eighteen dollars +a week for a suite had of course made him a man of mark and mystery +in the boarding-house, and in the romancings of Miss Miller he had +figured as nearly everything from a fugitive crown prince to a +retired counterfeiter. However, Queed positively refused to be +drawn away from the book-shelves to listen to his story, and the +old professor was compelled to turn away from the fire and to talk, +at that, to the back of the young man's head.</p> +<p>Nicolovius, so he told Queed, was not an American at all, but an +Irishman, born at Roscommon, Connaught. His grandfather was a +German, whence he got his name. But the lad grew up in the image of +his mother's people. He became an intense patriot even for Ireland, +an extremist among extremists, a notorious firebrand in a land +where no wood glows dully. Equipped with a good education and +natural parts, he had become a passionate leader in the "Young +Ireland" movement; was a storm-centre all during the Home Rule +agitations; and suddenly outgrew Ireland overnight during the +"Parnellism and Crime" era. He got away to the coast, disguised as +a coster, and once had the pleasure of giving a lift in his cart to +the search-party who wanted him, dead or alive. This was in the +year 1882.</p> +<p>"You were mixed up in the Phoenix Park murders, I daresay?" +interjected Queed, in his matter-of-fact way.</p> +<p>"You will excuse my preference for a certain indefiniteness," +said Nicolovius, with great sweetness.</p> +<p>On this side, he had drifted accidentally into school-teaching, +as a means of livelihood, and stuck at it, in New York, St. Paul, +and, for many years, in Chicago. The need of a warmer climate for +his health's sake, he said, had driven him South, and some three +years before an appointment at Milner's Collegiate School had +brought him to the city which he and the young man now alike called +their own.</p> +<p>Queed, still sacking the shelves for another find, asked if he +had never revisited Ireland.</p> +<p>"Ah, no," said Nicolovius, "there was no gracious pardon for my +little peccadillo, no statute of limitations to run after me and +pat me on the head. I love England best with the sea between us. +You may fancy that a refugee Irishman has no fondness for reading +history."</p> +<p>He flicked the fire-ash from his cigar and looked at Queed. All +the time he talked he had been watching the young man, studying +him, conning him over....</p> +<p>"My life ended when I was scarcely older than you. I have been +dead while I was alive.... God pity you, young man, if you ever +taste the bitter misery of that!"</p> +<p>Queed turned around surprised at the sudden fierceness of the +other's tone. Nicolovius instantly sprang up and went over to poke +the fire; he came back directly, smiling easily and pulling at his +long cigar.</p> +<p>"Ah, well! Forgive the saddening reminiscences of an old +man—not a common weakness with me, I assure you. May I say, +Mr. Queed, how much your intellect, your culture, your +admirable—ah—poise—amazing they seem to me in so +young a man—have appealed to me among a population of +Brookes, Bylashes, and Klinkers? You are the first man in many a +day that has inspired me with an impulse toward friendship and +confidence. It would be a real kindness if you'd come in sometimes +of an evening."</p> +<p>At the word "friendship" the young man flinched uncontrollably. +Was the whole diabolical world in league to spring out and make +friends with him?</p> +<p>"Unfortunately," he said, with his iciest bow, "my time is +entirely engrossed by my work."</p> +<p>But as his eye went round the pretty, dim-lit room, he could not +help contrasting it with the bleak Scriptorium above, and he added +with a change of tone and a sigh:—</p> +<p>"You appear wonderfully comfortable here."</p> +<p>Nicolovius shrugged. "So-so," he said indifferently. "However, I +shall make a move before long."</p> +<p>"Indeed?"</p> +<p>"I want more space and independence, more quiet—surcease +from meeting fellow-boarders at every step. I plan to move into an +apartment, or perhaps a modest little house, if I can manage it. +For I am not rich, unhappily, though I believe the boarders think I +am, because I make Emma a present of a dollar each year at the +anniversary of the birth of our Lord."</p> +<p>Queed ignored his little pleasantry. He was struck with the fact +that Nicolovius had described exactly the sort of living +arrangement that he himself most earnestly desired.</p> +<p>"I should have made the move last year," continued Nicolovius, +pulling at his auburn mustaches, "except that—well, I am more +sensitive to my loneliness as I grow older, and the fact was that I +lacked a congenial companion to share a pleasanter home with."</p> +<p>The eyes of the two men met, and they moved away from each other +as by common consent. Apparently the same thought popped +simultaneously into both their minds. Queed dallied with his +thought, frankly and with the purest unaltruism.</p> +<p>Though this was the first time he had ever been in the old +professor's pretty room, it was the third or fourth time he had +been invited there. Nothing could be clearer than that Nicolovius +liked him enormously,—where on earth did he get his fatal +gift for attracting people?—nothing than that he was exactly +the sort of congenial companion the old man desired. Why shouldn't +he go and live with Nicolovius in his new home, the home of perfect +quiet and immunity from boarders? And unbroken leisure, too, for of +course Nicolovius would bear all expenses, and he himself would fly +from all remunerative work as from the Black Death. Nay more, the +old chap would very likely be willing to pay him a salary for his +society, or at least, see that he was kept well supplied with +everything he needed—books to demolish like this one under +his arm, and ...</p> +<p>He looked up and found the sardonic Italian eyes of the old +professor fixed on him with a most curious expression.... No, no! +Better even Mrs. Paynter's than solitude shared with this stagey +old man, with his repellent face and his purring voice which his +eyes so belied.</p> +<p>"I must be going," said Queed hastily.</p> +<p>His host came forward with suave expressions of regret. +"However, I feel much complimented that you came at all. Pray honor +me again very soon—"</p> +<p>"I'll return this book sometime," continued the young man, +already at the door. "You won't mind if I mark it, of course?"</p> +<p>"My dear sir—most certainly not. Indeed I hoped that you +would consent to accept it for your own, as a—"</p> +<p>"No, I'll return it. I daresay you will find," he added with a +faint smile, but his grossest one, "that my notes have not lessened +its value exactly!"</p> +<p>In the hall Queed looked at his watch; ten minutes to ten. +<i>Twenty-five minutes to his visit upon the old professor!</i></p> +<p>However, let us be calm and just about it. The twenty-five +minutes was not a flat loss: he had got Crozier by it. Crozier was +worth twenty-five minutes; thirty-five, if it came to +that—fifty!... But how to fit such a thing as this into the +Schedule—and Klinker's visits—and the time he had given +to Fifi to-night and very likely would have to give through an +endless chain of to-morrows? Here was the burning crux. Was it +endurable that the Schedule must be corrupted yet again?</p> +<p>So far as little Fifi was concerned, it turned out that these +agonies were superfluous; he had helped her with her lessons for +the last time. She did not appear in the dining-room the next +night, or the next, or the next. Inquiries from the boarders drew +from Mrs. Paynter the information that the child's cough had pulled +her down so that she had been remanded to bed for a day or two to +rest up. But resting up appeared not to prove so simple a process +as had been anticipated, and the day or two was soon running into +weeks.</p> +<p>Halcyon nights Queed enjoyed in the dining-room in Fifi's +absence, yet faintly marred in a most singular way by the very +absence which alone made them halcyon. It is a fact that you cannot +give to any person fifteen minutes of valuable time every night, +and not have your consciousness somewhat involved in that person's +abrupt disappearance from your horizon. Messages from Fifi on +matters of most trivial import came to Queed occasionally, and +these served to keep alive his subtle awareness of her absence. But +he never took any notice of the messages, not even of the one which +said that he could look in and see her some afternoon if he wanted +to.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Concerning a Plan to make a Small Gift to a Fellow-Boarder, +and what it led to in the Way of Calls; also touching upon Mr. +Queed's Dismissal from the Post, and the Generous Resolve of the +Young Lady, Charles Weyland.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The State Department of Charities was a rudimentary affair in +those days, just as Queed had said. Its appropriation was +impossibly meager, even with the niggard's increase just wrung from +the legislature. The whole Department fitted cozily into a single +room in the Capitol; it was small as a South American army, this +Department, consisting, indeed, of but the two generals. But the +Secretary and the Assistant Secretary worked together like a team +of horses. They had already done wonders, and their hopes were high +with still more wonders to perform. In especial there was the +reformatory. The legislature had adjourned without paying any +attention to the reformatory, exactly as it had been meant to do. +But a bill had been introduced, at all events, and the <i>Post</i> +had carried a second editorial, expounding and urging the plan; +several papers in the smaller cities of the State had followed the +<i>Post's</i> lead; and thus the issue had been fairly launched, +with the ground well broken for a successful campaign two years +later.</p> +<p>The office of the Department was a ship-shape place, with its +two desks, a big one and a little one; the typewriter table; the +rows and rows of letter-files on shelves; a sectional bookcase +containing Charities reports from other States, with two shelves +reserved for authoritative books by such writers as Willoughby, +Smathers, and Conant. Here, doubtless, would some day stand the +colossal work of Queed. At the big desk sat the Rev. Mr. Dayne, a +practical idealist of no common sort, a kind-faced man with a crisp +brown mustache. At the typewriter-table sat Sharlee Weyland, +writing firm letters to thirty-one county almshouse keepers. It was +hard upon noon. Sharlee looked tired and sad about the eyes. She +had not been to supper at Mrs. Paynter's for months, but she went +there nearly every afternoon from the office to see Fifi, who had +been in bed for four weeks.</p> +<p>The Department door opened, with no premonitory knock, and in +walked, of all people, Mr. Queed.</p> +<p>Sharlee came forward very cordially to greet the visitor, and at +once presented him to the Secretary. However Queed dismissed Mr. +Dayne very easily, and gazing at Sharlee sharply through his +spectacles, said:</p> +<p>"I should like to speak to you in private a moment."</p> +<p>"Certainly," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>"I'll step into the hall," said kind-faced Mr. Dayne.</p> +<p>"No, no. Indeed you mustn't. We will."</p> +<p>Sharlee faced the young man in the sunlit hall with sympathetic +expectancy and some curiosity in her eyes.</p> +<p>"There is," he began without preliminaries, "a girl at the house +where I board, who has been confined to her bed with sickness for +some weeks. It appears that she has grown thin and weak, so that +they will not permit her to graduate at her school. This involves a +considerable disappointment to her."</p> +<p>"You are speaking of Fifi," said Sharlee, gently.</p> +<p>"That is the girl's name, if it is of any interest to +you—"</p> +<p>"You know she is my first cousin."</p> +<p>"Possibly so," he replied, as though to say that no one had the +smallest right to hold him responsible for that. "In this +connection, a small point has arisen upon which advice is required, +the advice of a woman. You happen to be the only other girl I know. +This," said Queed, "is why I have called."</p> +<p>Sharlee felt flattered. "You are most welcome to my advice, Mr. +Queed."</p> +<p>He frowned at her through glasses that looked as big and as +round as butter-saucers, with an expression in which impatience +contended with faint embarrassment.</p> +<p>"As her fellow-lodger," he resumed, precisely, "I have been in +the habit of assisting this girl with her studies and have thus +come to take an interest in her—a small interest. During her +sickness, it seems, many of the boarders have been in to call upon +her. In a similar way, she has sent me several messages inviting me +to call, but I have not been in position to accept any of these +invitations. It does not follow that, because I gave some of my +time in the past to assisting her with her lessons, I can afford to +give more of it now for purposes of—of mere sociability. I +make the situation clear to you?"</p> +<p>Sharlee, to whom Fifi had long since made the situation clear, +puckered her brow like one carefully rehearsing the several facts. +"Yes, I believe that is all perfectly clear, Mr. Queed."</p> +<p>He hesitated visibly; then his lips tightened and, gazing at her +with a touch of something like defiance, he said: "On the other +hand, I do not wish this girl to think that I bear her ill-will for +the time I have given her in the past. I—ahem—have +therefore concluded to make her a present, a small gift."</p> +<p>Sharlee stood looking at him without a reply.</p> +<p>"Well?" said he, annoyed. "I am not certain what form this small +gift had best take."</p> +<p>She turned away from him and walked to the end of the hall, +where the window was. To Queed's great perplexity, she stood there +looking out for some time, her back toward him. Soon it came into +his mind that she meant to indicate that their interview was over, +and this attitude seemed extremely strange to him. He could not +understand it at all.</p> +<p>"I fear that you have failed to follow me, after all," he called +after her, presently. "This was the point—as to what form the +gift should take—upon which I wanted a woman's advice."</p> +<p>"I understand." She came back to him slowly, with bright eyes. +"I know it would please Fifi very much to have a gift from you. Had +you thought at all, yourself, what you would like to give?"</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, frowning vaguely, "I examined the shop windows +as I came down and pretty well decided on something. Then at the +last minute I was not altogether sure."</p> +<p>"Yes? Tell me what."</p> +<p>"I thought I would give her a pair of silk mitts."</p> +<p>Sharlee's eyes never left his, and her face was very sweet and +grave.</p> +<p>"White silk ones," said he—"or black either, for that +matter, for the price is the same."</p> +<p>"Well," said she, "why did you select mitts, specially?"</p> +<p>"What first attracted me to them," he said simply, "was that +they came to precisely the sum I had planned to spend: seventy-five +cents."</p> +<p>The little corrugation in Sharlee's brow showed how carefully +she was thinking over the young man's suggestion from all possible +points of view. You could easily follow her thought by her speaking +sequence of expressions. Clearly it ran like this: +"Mitts—splendid! Just the gift for a girl who's sick in bed. +The one point to consider is, could any other gift possibly be +better? No, surely none.... Wait a minute, though! Let's take this +thing slowly and be absolutely sure we're right before we go +ahead.... Run over carefully all the things that are ever used as +gifts. Anything there that is better than mitts? Perhaps, after all +... Mitts ... Why, look here, isn't there one small objection, one +trifling want of the fulness of perfection to be raised against the +gift of mitts?"</p> +<p>"There's this point against mitts," said Sharlee slowly. "Fifi's +in bed now, and I'm afraid she's likely to be there for some time. +Of course she could not wear the mitts in bed. She would have to +tuck them away in a drawer somewhere. Don't you think it might be a +good idea to give her something that she could enjoy at +once—something that would give her pleasure <i>now</i> and so +help to lighten these tedious hours while she must be in her +room?"</p> +<p>The mitts were the child of Queed's own brain. Unconsciously he +had set his heart on them; but his clock-like mind at once grasped +the logic of this argument, and he met it generously.</p> +<p>"Your point is well taken. It proves the wisdom of getting the +advice of a woman on such a matter. Now I had thought also of a +book—"</p> +<p>"I'll tell you!" cried Sharlee, nearly bowled over by a +brilliant inspiration. "A <i>great</i> many men that I know make it +a rule to send flowers to girls that are sick, and—"</p> +<p>"<i>Flowers!</i>"</p> +<p>"It does seem foolish—<i>such</i> a waste, doesn't +it?—but really you've no idea how mad girls are about +flowers, or how much real joy they can bring into a sick-room. And, +by changing the water often, and—so on, they last a +<i>long</i> time, really an incredible time—"</p> +<p>"You recommend flowers, then? Very well," he said +resolutely—"that is settled then. Now as to the kind. I have +only a botanical knowledge of flowers—shall we say something +in asters, perhaps, chrysanthemums or dahlias? What is your advice +as to that?"</p> +<p>"Well, I advise roses."</p> +<p>"Roses—good. I had forgotten them for the moment. White +roses?"</p> +<p>A little shiver ran through her. "No, no! Let them be the +reddest you can find."</p> +<p>"Next, as to the cost of red roses."</p> +<p>"Oh, there'll be no trouble about <i>that</i>. Simply tell the +florist that you want seventy-five cents' worth, and he will give +you a fine bunch of them. By the way, I'd better put his name and +address down on a piece of paper for you. Be sure to go to this one +because I know him, and he's extremely reliable."</p> +<p>He took the slip from her, thanked her, bowed gravely, and +turned to go. A question had risen involuntarily to the tip of her +tongue; it hung there for a breath, its fate in the balance; and +then she released it, casually, when another second would have been +too late.</p> +<p>"How is your work on the <i>Post</i> going?"</p> +<p>He wheeled as though she had struck him, and looked at her with +a sudden odd hardening of the lower part of his face.</p> +<p>"The <i>Post</i> discharged me this morning."</p> +<p>"Oh—"</p> +<p>It was all that she could say, for she knew it very well. She +had had it from Colonel Cowles two days before it happened, which +was three days after the April meeting of the directors. Charles +Gardiner West, who was to have raised his voice in behalf of Mr. +Queed on that occasion, happened not to be present at all. Having +effected the dissolution of Semple and West, he had gone to the +country for a month's rest, in preparation for that mapping out of +collegiate plans which was to precede his tour of Europe. Hence the +directors, hearing no protests from intercessors, unanimously +bestowed discretion upon the Colonel to replace the transcendental +scientist with a juicier assistant at a larger salary.</p> +<p>"At least," the young man qualified, with a curious mixture of +aggressiveness and intense mortification, "the <i>Post</i> will +discharge me on the 15th day of May unless I show marked +improvement. I believe that improvement was exactly the word the +estimable Colonel employed."</p> +<p>"I'm awfully sorry," said Sharlee—"awfully! But after all, +you want only some routine hack-work—any routine +hack-work—to establish a little income. It will not be very +hard to find something else, as good or even better."</p> +<p>"You do not appear to grasp the fact that, apart from any +considerations of that sort, this is an unpleasant, a most +offensive thing to have happen—"</p> +<p>"Oh, but that is just what it isn't, Mr. Queed," said Sharlee, +who quite failed to appreciate his morbid tenderness for even the +least of his intellectual offspring. "You have taken no pride in +the newspaper work; you look down on it as altogether beneath you. +You cannot mind this in any personal way—"</p> +<p>"I mind it," said he, "like the devil."</p> +<p>The word fell comically from his lips, but Sharlee, leaning +against the shut door, looked at him with grave sympathy in her +eyes.</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed, if you had tried to write nursery rhymes +and—failed, would you have taken it to heart?"</p> +<p>"Never mind arguing it. In fact, I don't know that I could +explain it to you in a thoroughly logical and convincing way. The +central fact, the concrete thing, is that I do object most +decidedly. I have spent too much time in equipping myself to +express valuable ideas in discriminating language to be kicked out +of a second-rate newspaper office like an incompetent office-boy. +Of course I shall not submit to it."</p> +<p>"Do you care to tell me what you mean to do?"</p> +<p>"Do!" He hit the door-post a sudden blow with an unexpectedly +large hand. "I shall have myself elected editor of the +<i>Post</i>."</p> +<p>"But—but—but—" said the girl, taken aback by +the largeness of this order—"But you don't expect to oust +Colonel Cowles?"</p> +<p>"We are not necessarily speaking of to-morrow or next day. An +actuary will tell you that I am likely to outlive Colonel Cowles. I +mean, first, to have my dismissal recalled, and, second, to be made +regular assistant editor at three times my present salary. That is +my immediate reply to the directors of the Post. I am willing to +let the editorship wait till old Cowles dies."</p> +<p>"Tell me," said Sharlee, "would you personally like to be editor +of the <i>Post?</i>"</p> +<p>"<i>Like it!</i> I'll resign the day after they elect me. Call +it sheer wounded vanity—anything you like! The name makes no +difference. I know only that I will have the editorship for a +day—and all for the worthless pleasure of pitching it in +their faces." He looked past her out of the window, and his light +gray eyes filled with an indescribable bitterness. "And to have the +editorship," he thought out loud, "I must unlearn everything that I +know about writing, and deliberately learn to write like a +demagogic ass."</p> +<p>Sharlee tapped the calcimine with her pointed fingernails. He +spoke, as ever, with overweening confidence, but she knew that he +would never win any editorship in this spirit. He was going at the +quest with a new burst of intellectual contempt, though it was this +very intellectual contempt that had led to his downfall.</p> +<p>"But your own private work?"</p> +<p>"Don't speak of it, I beg!" He flinched uncontrollably; but of +his own accord he added, in carefully repressed tones: "To qualify +for the editorship of course means—a terrible interruption +and delay. It means that <i>I must side-track My Book for two +months or even longer!</i>"</p> +<p>Two months! It would take him five years and probably he would +not be qualified then.</p> +<p>Sharlee hesitated. "Have you fully made up your mind to—to +be editor?"</p> +<p>He turned upon her vehemently. "May I ask you never to waste my +time with questions of that sort. I +never—<i>never</i>—say anything until I have fully made +up my mind about it. Good-morning."</p> +<p>"No, no, no! Don't go yet! Please—I want to speak to you a +minute."</p> +<p>He stopped and turned, but did not retrace the three steps he +had taken. Sharlee leaned against the door and looked away from +him, out into the park.</p> +<p>The little Doctor was badly in need of a surgical operation. +Somebody must perform it for him, or his whole life was a dusty +waste. That he still had glimmerings, he had shown this very hour, +in wanting to make a gift to his sick little fellow-lodger. His +resentment over his dismissal from the <i>Post</i>, too, was an +unexpectedly human touch in him. But in the same breath with these +things the young man had showed himself at his worst: the +glimmerings were so overlaid with an incredible snobbery of the +mind, so encrusted with the rankest and grossest egotism, that soon +they must flutter and die out, leaving him stone-blind against the +sunshine and the morning. No scratch could penetrate that +Achilles-armor of self-sufficiency. There must be a shock to break +it apart, or a vicious stabbing to cut through it to such spark as +was still alive.</p> +<p>Somebody must administer that shock or do that stabbing. Why not +she? He would hate the sight of her forevermore, but ...</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed," said Sharlee, turning toward him, "you let me see, +from what you are doing this morning, that you think of Fifi as +your friend. I'd like to ask if you think of me in that way, +too."</p> +<p>O Lord, <i>Lord!</i> Here was another one!</p> +<p>"No," he said positively. "Think of you as I do of Fifi! No, no! +No, I do not."</p> +<p>"I don't mean to ask if you think of me as you do of Fifi. Of +course I am sure you don't. I only mean—let me put it this +way: Do you believe that I have your—interests at heart, and +would like to do anything I could to help you?"</p> +<p>He thought this over warily. Doubtless doomed Smathers would +have smiled to note the slowness with which his great rival's mind +threshed out such a question as this.</p> +<p>"If you state your proposition in that way, I reply, +tentatively, yes."</p> +<p>"Then can you spare me half an hour to-night after supper?"</p> +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> +<p>"For you and me," she smiled. "I'd like you to come and see me, +at my house, where we could really have a little talk. You see, I +know Colonel Cowles very well indeed, and I have read the +<i>Post</i> for oh, many, many years! In this way I know something +about the kind of articles people here like to read, and +about—what is needed to write such articles. I think I might +make a suggestion or two that—would help. Will you come?"</p> +<p>After somewhat too obvious a consideration, Queed consented. +Sharlee thanked him.</p> +<p>"I'll put my address down on the back of that paper, shall I? +And I think I'll put my name, too, for I don't believe you have the +faintest idea what it is."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes. The name is Miss Charlie Weyland. It appears that you +were named after a boy?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it's only a silly nickname. Here's your little directory +back. I'll be very glad to see you—at half-past eight, shall +we say? But, Mr. Queed—don't come unless you feel sure that I +really want to help. For I'm afraid I'll have to say a good deal +that will make you very mad."</p> +<p>He bowed and walked away. Sharlee went to the telephone and +called Bartlett's, the florist. She told Mr. Bartlett that a young +man would come in there in a few minutes—full description of +the young man—asking for seventy-five cents' worth of red +roses; Mr. Bartlett would please give him two dozen roses, and +charge the difference to her, Miss Weyland; the entire transaction +to be kept discreetly quiet.</p> +<p>However the transaction was not kept entirely quiet. The roses +were delivered promptly, and became the chief topic of conversation +at Mrs. Paynter's dinner-table. Through an enforced remark of Mr. +Queed's, and the later discursive gossip of the boarders, it became +disseminated over the town that Bartlett's was selling American +Beauties at thirty-seven and a half cents a dozen, and the poor man +had to buy ten inches, double column, in the <i>Post</i> next +morning to get himself straightened out and reestablish Bartlett's +familiar quotations.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>More Consequences of the Plan about the Gift, and of how Mr. +Queed drinks his Medicine like a Man; Fifi on Men, and how they do; +Second Corruption of The Sacred Schedule.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Queed's irrational impulse to make Fifi a small gift cost him +the heart of his morning. A call would have been cheaper, after +all. Nor was the end yet. In this world it never is, where one +event invariably hangs by the tail of another in ruthless +concatenation. Starting out for Open-air Pedestrianism at 4.45 that +afternoon, the young man was waylaid in the hall by Mrs. Paynter, +at the very door of the big bedroom into which Fifi had long since +been moved. The landlady, backing Queed against the banisters, told +him how much her daughter had been pleased by his beautiful +remembrance. The child, she said, wanted particularly to thank him +herself, and wouldn't he please come in and see her just a +moment?</p> +<p>As Mrs. Paynter threw open the door in the act of making the +extraordinary request, escape was impossible. Queed found himself +inside the room before he knew what he was doing. As for Mrs. +Paynter, she somewhat treacherously slipped away to consult with +Laura as to what for supper.</p> +<p>It was a mild sunny afternoon, with a light April wind idly +kicking at the curtains. Fifi sat over by the open window in a +tilted-back Morris chair, a sweet-faced little thing, all eyes and +pallor. From her many covers she extricated a fragile hand, frilled +with the sleeve of a pretty flowered kimono.</p> +<p>"Look at them! Aren't they glorious!"</p> +<p>On a table at her elbow his roses nodded from a wide-lipped +vase, a gorgeous riot of flame and fragrance. Gazing at them, the +young man marvelled at his own princely prodigality.</p> +<p>"I don't know <i>how</i> to thank you for them, Mr. Queed, They +are so, so sweet, and I do love roses so!"</p> +<p>Indeed her joy in them was too obvious to require any words. +Queed decided to say nothing about the mitts.</p> +<p>"I'm glad that they please you," said he, pulling himself +together for the ordeal of the call. "How are you getting along up +here? Very well, I trust?"</p> +<p>"Fine. It's so quiet and nice.... And I don't mind about +graduating a bit any more. Isn't that funny?"</p> +<p>"You must hurry up and get well and return to the dining-room +again, F—F—Fifi—, and to the algebra +lessons—"</p> +<p>"Don't," said Fifi. "I can't bear it."</p> +<p>But she whisked at her eyes with a tiny dab of a handkerchief, +and when she looked at him she was smiling, quite clear and +happy.</p> +<p>"Have you missed me since I stopped coming?"</p> +<p>"Missed you?" he echoed, exactly as he had done before.</p> +<p>But this time Fifi said, shamelessly, "I'll bet you +have!—Haven't you?"</p> +<p>Come, Mr. Queed, be honest. You are supposed to have the +scientist's passion for veracity. You mercilessly demand the truth +from others. Now take some of your own medicine. Stand out like a +man. Have you or have you not missed this girl since she stopped +coming?</p> +<p>"Yes," said the little Doctor, rather hollowly, "I ... have +missed you."</p> +<p>Fifi's smile became simply brazen. "Do you know what, Mr. Queed? +You like me <i>lots</i> more than you will say you do."</p> +<p>The young man averted his eyes. But for some time there had been +in his mind the subtle consciousness of something left undone, an +occasion which he had failed to meet with the final word of +justice. Since he had been in the room, a vague, unwelcome resolve +had been forming in his mind, and at Fifi's bold words, it hardened +into final shape. He drew a deep breath.</p> +<p>"You referred to me as your friend once, F—Fifi. And I +said that I was not."</p> +<p>"I know."</p> +<p>"I was—mistaken"—so he drained his medicine to the +dregs. "I ... am your friend."</p> +<p>Now the child's smile was the eternal motherly. "Lor', Mr. +Queed, I knew it all the time."</p> +<p>Queed looked at the floor. The sight of Fifi affected him most +curiously to-day. He felt strangely ill at ease with her, only the +more so because she was so amazingly at home with him. She wore her +reddish-brown hair not rounded up in front as of old, but parted +smoothly in the middle, and this only emphasized the almost saintly +purity of her wasted little face. Her buoyant serenity puzzled and +disconcerted him.</p> +<p>Meantime Fifi was examining Queed carefully. "You've been doing +something to yourself, Mr. Queed! What is it? Why, you look ten +times better than even four weeks ago!"</p> +<p>"I think," he said drearily, "it must be Klinker's Exercises. I +give them," broke from him, "<i>one hour and twenty minutes a +day!</i>"</p> +<p>But he pulled himself together, conscientiously determined to +take the cheery view with Fifi.</p> +<p>"It is an extraordinary thing, but I am feeling better, +physically and mentally, than I ever felt before, and this though I +never had a really sick day in my life. It must be the exercises, +for that is the only change I have made in my habits. Yet I never +supposed that exercise had any such practical value as that. +However," he went on slowly, "I am beginning to believe that there +are several things in this world that I do not understand."</p> +<p>Here, indeed, was a most humiliating, an epoch-making, +confession to come from the little Doctor. It was accompanied with +a vague smile, intended to be cheering and just the thing for a +sick-room. But the dominant note in this smile was bewildered and +depressed helplessness, and at it the maternal instinct sprang +full-grown in Fifi's thin little bosom. A passionate wish to mother +the little Doctor tugged at her heart.</p> +<p>"You know what you need, Mr. Queed? Friends—lots of good +friends—"</p> +<p>He winced as from a blow. "I assure you—"</p> +<p>"Yes—you—DO!" said Fifi, with surprising emphasis +for so weak a little voice. "You need first a good girl friend, one +lots older and better than me—one just like Sharlee. O if +only you and she <i>would</i> be friends!—she'd be the very +best in the world! And then you need men friends, plenty of them, +and to go around with them, and everything. You ought to like +<i>men</i> more, Mr. Queed! You ought to learn to <i>be</i> like +them, and—"</p> +<p>"Be like them!" he interrupted, "I am like them. Why," he +conceded generously, "I am one of them."</p> +<p>Fifi dismissed this with a smile, but he immediately added: "Has +it occurred to you that, apart from my greater concentration on my +work, I am different from other men?"</p> +<p>"Why, Mr. Queed, you are no more like them than I am! You don't +do any of the things they do. You don't—"</p> +<p>"Such as what? Now, Fifi, let us be definite as we go along. +Suppose that it was my ambition to be, as you say, like other men. +Just what things, in your opinion, should I do?"</p> +<p>"Well, smoke—that's one thing that all men do. And fool +around more with people—laugh and joke, and tell funny +stories and all. And then you could take an interest in your +appearance—your clothes, you know; and be interested in all +sorts of things going on around you, like politics and baseball. +And go to see girls and take them out sometimes, like to the +theatre. Some men that are popular drink, but of course I don't +care for that."</p> +<p>Fifi, of course, had no idea that the little Doctor's world had +been shattered to its axis that morning by three minutes' talk from +Colonel Cowles. Therefore, though conscious that there never was a +man who did not get a certain pleasure from talking himself over, +she was secretly surprised at the patience, even the interest, with +which he listened to her. She would have been still more surprised +to know that his wonderful memory was nailing down every word with +machine-like accuracy.</p> +<p>She expounded her little thesis in considerable detail, and at +the end he said:—</p> +<p>"As I've told you, Fifi, my first duty is toward my +book—to give it to the cause of civilization at the earliest +possible moment. Therefore, the whole question is one of time, +rather than of deliberate personal inclination. At present I +literally cannot afford to give time to matters which, while +doubtless pleasant enough in their fashion—"</p> +<p>"That's what you would have said about the exercise, two months +ago. And now look, how it's helped you! And then, Mr. +Queed—are you happy?"</p> +<p>Surprised and a little amused, he replied: "Really, I've never +stopped to think. I should say, though, that I was perfectly +content."</p> +<p>Fifi laughed and coughed. "There's a big difference—isn't +there? Why, it's just like the exercise, Mr. Queed. Before you +began it you were just <i>not sick</i>; now you are <i>very +well</i>. That's the difference between content and happiness. Now +I," she ran on, "am very, very happy. I wake up in the mornings +<i>so</i> glad that I'm alive that sometimes I can hardly bear it, +and all through the day it's like something singing away inside of +me! Are you like that?"</p> +<p>No, Mr. Queed must confess that he was not like that. Indeed, +few looking at his face at this moment would ever have suspected +him of it. Fifi regarded him with a kind of wistful sadness, but he +missed the glance, being engaged in consulting his great watch; +after which he sprang noisily to his feet, horrified at +himself.</p> +<p>"Good heavens—it's ten minutes past five! I must go +immediately. Why, I'm twenty-five minutes behind My Schedule!"</p> +<p>Fifi smiled through her wistfulness. "Don't ask me to be sorry, +Mr. Queed, because I don't think I can. You see, I haven't taken up +a minute of your time for nearly a month, so I was entitled to some +of it to-day."</p> +<p>You see! Hadn't he figured it exactly right from the beginning? +Once give a human being a moment of your time, as a special and +extraordinary kindness, and before you can turn around there that +being is claiming it wholesale as a matter-of-course right!</p> +<p>"It was so sweet of you to send me these flowers, and then to +come and see me, too.... Do you know, it's been the very best day +I've had since I've been sick, and you've made it so!"</p> +<p>"It's all right. Well, good-bye, Fifi."</p> +<p>Fifi held out both her tiny hands, and he received them because, +in the sudden emergency, he could think of no way of avoiding +them.</p> +<p>"You'll remember what I said about friends, and +<i>men</i>—won't you, Mr. Queed? Remember it begins with +liking people, liking everybody. Then when you really like them you +want to do things for them, and that is happiness."</p> +<p>He looked surprised at this definition of happiness, and then: +"Oh—I see. That's your religion, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"No, it's just common sense."</p> +<p>"I'll remember. Well, Fifi, good-bye."</p> +<p>"Good-bye—and thank you for everything."</p> +<p>Into her eyes had sprung a tenderness which he was far from +understanding. But he did not like the look of it in the least, and +he extricated his hands from the gentle clasp with some +abruptness.</p> +<p>From the safe distance of the door he looked back, and wondered +why Fifi's great eyes were fixed so solemnly on him.</p> +<p>"Well—good-bye, again. Hurry up and get well—"</p> +<p>"Good-bye—oh, good-bye," said Fifi, and turned her head +toward the open window with the blue skies beyond.</p> +<p>Did Fifi know? How many have vainly tortured themselves with +that question, as they have watched dear ones slipping without a +word down the slopes to the dark Valley! If this child knew that +her name had been read out for the greater Graduation, she gave no +sign. Sometimes in the mornings she cried a little, without knowing +why. Sometimes she said a vague, sad little thing that brought her +mother's heart, stone cold, to her mouth. But her talk was mostly +very bright and hopeful. Ten minutes before Queed came in she had +been telling Mrs. Paynter about something she would do in the fall. +If sometimes you would swear that she knew there would never be +another fall for her, her very next remark might confound you. So +her little face turned easily to the great river with the shining +farther shore, and, for her part, there would be no sadness of +farewell when she embarked.</p> +<p>By marvelous work, Queed closed up the twenty-five minutes of +time he had bestowed upon Fifi, and pulled into supper only three +minutes behind running-time. Afterwards, he sat in the +Scriptorium, his face like a carven image, the sacred Schedule in +his hands. For it had come down to that. Either he must at any cost +hew his way back to the fastness of his early days, or he must +corrupt the Schedule yet again.</p> +<p>Every minute that he took away from his book meant just that +much delay in giving the great work to the world. That fact was the +eternal backbone of all his consciousness. On the other balance of +his personal equation, there was Buck Klinker and there was Fifi +Paynter.</p> +<p>Klinker evidently felt that all bars were down as to him. It +would be a hard world indeed if a trainer was denied free access to +his only pupil, and Klinker, though he had but the one, was always +in as full blast as Muldoon's. He had acquired a habit of "dropping +in" at all hours, especially late at night, which, to say the +least, was highly wasteful of time. It was Queed's privilege to +tell Klinker that he must keep away from the Scriptorium; but in +that case Klinker might fairly retort that he would no longer give +the Doc free physical culture. Did he care to bring that issue to +the touch? No, he did not. In fact, he must admit that he had a +distinct need of Buck, a distinct dependence upon him, for awhile +yet at any rate. So he could make no elimination of the +non-essential there.</p> +<p>Then there was Fifi. In a week, or possibly two weeks, Fifi +would doubtless reappear in his dining-room, and if she had no +lessons to trouble him with, she would at any rate feel herself +free to talk to him whenever the whim moved her. Had she not let +out this very day that she considered that she had a kind of title +to his time? So it would be to the end of the chapter. It had been +his privilege to tell Fifi that he could not spare her another +minute of time till his work was finished.... Had been—but no +longer was. Looking back now, he found it impossible to reconstruct +the chain of impulse and circumstance which had trapped him into +it, but the stark fact was that his own lips had authorized Fifi to +profane at will his holy time. Not three hours before he had been +betrayed into weakly telling her that he was her friend. He was a +man of truth and honor. He could not possibly get back of that +confession of friendship, or of the privileges it bestowed. So +there was no elimination of the non-essential he could make +there.</p> +<p>These were the short and ugly facts. And now he must take +official cognizance of them.</p> +<p>With a leaden heart and the hands of lamentation, he took the +Schedule to pieces and laboriously fitted it together again with a +fire-new item in its midst. The item was Human Intercourse, and to +it he allotted the sum of thirty minutes per diem.</p> +<p>It was a historic moment in his life, and, unlike most men at +such partings of the ways, he was fully conscious of it. +Nevertheless, he passed straight from it to another performance +hardly less extraordinary. From his table drawer he produced a +little memorandum book, and in it—just below a diagram of a +new chest-developing exercise invented last night by +Klinker—he jotted down the things that Fifi said a man must +do to be like other men.</p> +<p>A clean half-hour remained before he must go and call on the +young lady with the tom-boy name, Charles Weyland, who knew "what +the public liked." He spent it, he, the indefatigable +minute-shaver, sitting with the head that no longer ached clamped +in his hand. It had been the most disturbing day of his life, but +he was not thinking of that exactly. He was thinking what a mistake +it had been to leave New York. There he had had but two friends +with no possibility of getting any more. Here—it was +impossible to blink the fact any longer—he already had two, +with at least two more determinedly closing in on him. He had Fifi +and he had Buck—yes, Buck; the young lady Charles Weyland had +offered him her friendship this very day; and unless he looked +alive he would wake up some morning to find that Nicolovius also +had captured him as a friend.</p> +<p>He was far better off in New York, where days would go by in +which he never saw Tim or Murphy Queed. And yet ... did he want to +go back?</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>"Taking the Little Doctor Down a Peg or Two": as performed +for the First and Only Time by Sharlee Weyland.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The Star that fought in its course for men through Sharlee +Weyland was of the leal and resolute kind. It did not swerve at a +squall. Sharlee had thought the whole thing out, and made up her +mind. Gentle raillery, which would do everything necessary in most +cases, would be wholly futile here. She must doff all gloves and +give the little Doctor the dressing-down of his life. She must +explode a mine under that enormously exaggerated self-esteem which +swamped the young man's personality like a goitre. Sharlee did not +want to do this. She liked Mr. Queed, in a peculiar sort of way, +and yet she had to make it impossible for him ever to speak to her +again. Her nature was to give pleasure, and therefore she was going +to do her utmost to give him pain. She wanted him to like her, and +consequently she was going to insult him past forgiveness. And she +was not even sure that it was going to do him any good.</p> +<p>When her guest walked into her little back parlor that evening, +Sharlee was feeling very self-sacrificing and noble. However, she +merely looked uncommonly pretty and tremendously engrossed in +herself. She was in evening dress. It was Easter Monday, and at +nine, as it chanced, she was to go out under the escortage of +Charles Gardiner West to some forgathering of youth and beauty. But +her costume was so perfectly suited to the little curtain-raiser +called Taking the Little Doctor Down a Peg or Two, that it might +have been appointed by a clever stage-manager with that alone in +mind. She was the haughty beauty, the courted princess, graciously +bestowing a few minutes from her crowding fêtes upon some +fourth-rate dependant. And indeed the little Doctor, with his +prematurely old face and his shabby clothes, rather looked the part +of the dependant. Sharlee's greeting was of the briefest.</p> +<p>"Ah, Mr. Queed.... Sit down."</p> +<p>Her negligent nod set him away at an immense distance; even he +was aware that Charles Weyland had undergone some subtle but marked +change since the morning. The colored maid who had shown him in was +retained to button her mistress' long gloves. It proved to be a +somewhat slow process. Over the mantel hung a gilt-framed mirror, +as wide as the mantel itself. To this mirror, the gloves buttoned, +Miss Weyland passed, and reviewed her appearance with slow +attention, giving a pat here, making a minor readjustment there. +But this survey did not suffice for details, it seemed; a more +minute examination was needed; over the floor she trailed with +leisurely grace, and rang the bell.</p> +<p>"Oh, Mary—my vanity-box, please. On the +dressing-table."</p> +<p>Seating herself under the lamp, she produced from the +contrivance the tiniest little mirror ever seen. As she raised it +to let it perform its dainty function, her glance fell on Queed, +sitting darkly in his rocking-chair. A look of mild surprise came +into her eye: not that it was of any consequence, but plainly she +had forgotten that he was there.</p> +<p>"Oh ... You don't mind waiting a few minutes?"</p> +<p>"I do m—"</p> +<p>"You promised half an hour I think? Never fear that I shall take +longer—"</p> +<p>"I did not promise half an hour for such—"</p> +<p>"It was left to me to decide in what way the time should be +employed, I believe. What I have to say can be said briefly, but to +you, at least, it should prove immensely interesting." She stifled +a small yawn with the gloved finger-tips of her left hand. +"However, of course don't let me keep you if you are pressed for +time."</p> +<p>The young man made no reply. Sharlee completed at her leisure +her conference with the vanity-box; snapped the trinket shut; and, +rising, rang the bell again. This time she required a glass of +water for her good comfort. She drank it slowly, watching herself +in the mantel mirror as she did so, and setting down the glass, +took a new survey of her whole effect, this time in a long-distance +view.</p> +<p>"Now, Mr. Queed!"</p> +<p>She sat down in a flowered arm-chair so large that it engulfed +her, and fixed him with a studious, puckering gaze as much as to +say: "Let's see. Now, what was his trouble?"</p> +<p>"Ah, yes!—the <i>Post</i>."</p> +<p>She glanced at the little clock on the mantel, appeared to +gather in her thoughts from remote and brilliant places, and +addressed the dingy youth briskly but not unkindly.</p> +<p>"Unfortunately, I have an engagement this evening and can give +you very little time. You will not mind if I am brief. Here, then, +is the case. A man employed in a minor position on a newspaper is +notified that he is to be discharged for incompetence. He replies +that, so far from being discharged, he will be promoted at the end +of a month, and will eventually be made editor of the paper. +Undoubtedly this is a magnificent boast, but to make it good means +a complete transformation in the character of this man's +work—namely, from entire incompetence to competence of an +unusual sort, all within a month's time. You are the man who has +made this extraordinary boast. To clear the ground before I begin +to show you where your trouble is, please tell me how you propose +to make it good."</p> +<p>Not every man feeling inside as the little Doctor felt at that +moment would have answered with such admirable calm.</p> +<p>"I purpose," he corrected her, "to take the files of the +<i>Post</i> for the past few years and read all of Colonel Cowles's +amusing articles. He, I am informed, is the editorial mogul and +paragon. I purpose to study those articles scientifically, to +analyze them, to take them apart and see exactly how they are put +together. I purpose to destroy my own style and build up another +one precisely like the Colonel's—if anything, a shade more +so. In short I purpose to learn to write like an ass, of asses, for +asses."</p> +<p>"That is your whole programme?"</p> +<p>"It is more than enough, I think."</p> +<p>"Ah?" She paused a moment, looking at him with faint, distant +amusement. "Now, as my aunt's business woman, I, of course, take an +interest in the finances of her boarders. Therefore I had better +begin at once looking about for a new place for you after May 15th. +What other kinds of work do you think yourself qualified to do, +besides editorial writing and the preparation of thesauruses?"</p> +<p>He looked at her darkly. "You imagine that the <i>Post</i> will +discharge me on May 15th?"</p> +<p>"There is nothing in the world that seems to me so certain."</p> +<p>"And why?"</p> +<p>"Why will the Post discharge you? For exactly the same reason it +promises to discharge you now. Incompetence."</p> +<p>"You agree with Colonel Cowles, then? You consider me +incompetent to write editorials for the <i>Post</i>?"</p> +<p>"Oh, totally. And it goes a great deal deeper than style, I +assure you. Mr. Queed, you're all wrong from the beginning."</p> +<p>Her eyes left his face; went first to the clock; glanced around +the room. Sharlee's dress was blue, and her neck was as white as a +wave's foamy tooth. Her manner was intended to convey to Mr. Queed +that he was the smallest midge on all her crowded horizon. It did +not, of course, have that effect, but it did arrest and pique his +attention most successfully. It was in his mind that Charles +Weyland had been of some assistance to him in first suggesting work +on the <i>Post</i>; and again about the roses for Fifi. He was +still ready to believe that she might have some profitable +suggestion about his new problem. Was she not that "public" and +that "average reader" which he himself so despised and detested? +Yet he could not imagine where such a little pink and white chit +found the hardihood to take this tone with one of the foremost +scientists of modern times.</p> +<p>"You interest me. I am totally incompetent now; I will be +totally incompetent on May 15th; this because I am all wrong from +the beginning. Pray proceed."</p> +<p>Sharlee, her thoughts recalled, made a slight inclination of her +head. "Forgive my absent-mindedness. First, then, as to why you are +a failure as an editorial writer. You are quite mistaken in +supposing that it is a mere question of style, though right in +regarding your style as in itself a fatal handicap. However, the +trouble has its root in your amusing attitude of superiority to the +work. You think of editorial writing as small hack-work, entirely +beneath the dignity of a man who has had one or two articles +accepted by a prehistoric magazine which nobody reads. In reality, +it is one of the greatest and most splendid of all professions, fit +to call out the very best of a really big man. You chuckle and +sneer at Colonel Cowles and think yourself vastly his superior as +an editorial writer, when, in the opinion of everybody else, he is +in every way your superior. I doubt if the <i>Post</i> has a single +reader who would not prefer to read an article by him, on any +subject, to reading an article by you. I doubt if there is a paper +in the world that would not greatly prefer him as an editor to +you—"</p> +<p>"You are absurdly mistaken," he interrupted coldly. "I might +name various papers—"</p> +<p>"Yes, the <i>Political Science Quarterly</i> and the <i>Journal +of the Anthropological Institute</i>." Sharlee smiled tolerantly, +and immediately resumed: "When you sit down at the office to write +an article, whom do you think you are writing for? A company of +scientists? An institute of gray-bearded scholars? An academy of +fossilized old doctors of laws? There are not a dozen people of +that sort who read the <i>Post</i>. Has it never occurred to you to +call up before your mind's eye the people you actually are writing +for? You can see them any day as you walk along the street. Go into +a street car at six o'clock any night and look around at the faces. +There is your public, the readers of the +<i>Post</i>—shop-clerks, stenographers, factory-hands, +office-men, plumbers, teamsters, drummers, milliners. Look at them. +Have you anything to say to interest them? Think. If they were to +file in here now and ask you to make a few remarks, could you, for +the life of you, say one single thing that would interest +them?"</p> +<p>"I do not pretend, or aspire," said Mr. Queed, "to dispense +frothy nothings tricked out to beguile the tired brick-layer. My +duty is to give forth valuable information and ripened judgment +couched in language—"</p> +<p>"No, your duty is to get yourself read; if you fail there you +fail everywhere. Is it possible that you don't begin to grasp that +point yet? I fancied that your mind was quicker. You appear to +think that the duty of a newspaper is to back people up against a +wall and ram helpful statistics into them with a force-pump. You +are grotesquely mistaken. Your ideal newspaper would not keep a +dozen readers in this city: that is to say, it would be a complete +failure while it lasted and would bankrupt Mr. Morgan in six +months. A dead newspaper is a useless one, the world over. At the +same time, every living and good newspaper is a little better, +spreads a little more sweetness and light, gives out a little more +valuable information, ripened judgment, et cetera, than the vast +majority of its readers want or will absorb. The <i>Post</i> is +that sort of newspaper. It is constantly tugging its readers a +little higher than they—I mean the majority, and not the +cultured few—are willing to go. But the <i>Post</i> always +recognizes that its first duty is to get itself read: if it does +not succeed in that, it lacks the principle of life and dies. +Perhaps the tired bricklayer you speak of, the middle-class, +commonplace, average people who make up nearly all of the world, +ought to be interested in John Stuart Mill's attitude toward the +single-tax. But the fact is that they aren't. The <i>Post</i> +wisely deals with the condition, and not a theory: it means to get +itself read. It is your first duty, as a writer for it, to get +yourself read. If you fail to get yourself read, you are worse than +useless to the <i>Post</i>. Well, you have completely failed to do +this, and that is why the <i>Post</i> is discharging you. Come, +free yourself from exaggerated notions about your own importance +and look at this simple point with the calm detachment of a +scientist. The <i>Post</i> can save money, while preserving just +the same effect, by discharging you and printing every morning a +half-column from the Encyclopedia Britannica."</p> +<p>She rose quickly, as though her time was very precious, and +passed over to the table, where a great bowl of violets stood. The +room was pretty: it had reminded Queed, when he entered it, of +Nicolovius's room, though there was a softer note in it, as the +flowers, the work-bag on the table, the balled-up veil and gloves +on the mantel-shelf. He had liked, too, the soft-shaded lamps; the +vague resolve had come to him to install a lamp in the Scriptorium +later on. But now, thinking of nothing like this, he sat in a thick +silence gazing at her with unwinking sternness.</p> +<p>Sharlee carefully gathered the violets from the bowl, shook a +small shower of water from their stems, dried them with a pocket +handkerchief about the size of a silver dollar. Next she wrapped +the stems with purple tinfoil, tied them with a silken cord and +tassel and laid the gorgeous bunch upon a magazine back, to await +her further pleasure. Then, coming back, she resumed her seat +facing the shabby young man she was assisting to see himself as +others saw him.</p> +<p>"I might," she said, "simply stop there. I might tell you that +you are a failure as an editorial writer because you have nothing +at all to say that is of the smallest interest to the great +majority of the readers of editorials, and would not know how to +say it if you had. That would be enough to satisfy most men, but I +see that I must make things very plain and definite for you. Mr. +Queed, you are a failure as an editorial writer because you are +first a failure in a much more important direction. You're a +failure as a human being—as a man."</p> +<p>She was watching his face lightly, but closely, and so she was +on her feet as soon as he, and had her hand out before he had even +thought of making this gesture.</p> +<p>"It is useless for this harangue to continue," he said, with a +brow of storm. "Your conception of helpful advice ..."</p> +<p>But Sharlee's voice, which had begun as soon as his, drowned him +out.... "Complimented you a little too far, I see. I shall be sure +to remember after this," she said with such a sweet smile, "that, +after all your talk, you are just the average man, and want to hear +only what flatters your little vanity. <i>Good</i>-night. So nice +to have seen you."</p> +<p>She nodded brightly, with faint amusement, and turning away, +moved off toward the door at the back. Queed, of course, had no +means of knowing that she was thinking, almost jubilantly: "I +<i>knew</i> that mouth meant spirit!" He only knew that, whereas he +had meant to terminate the interview with a grave yet stinging +rebuke to her, she had given the effect of terminating the +interview with a graceful yet stinging rebuke to him. This was not +what he wanted in the least. Come to think of it, he doubted if he +wanted the interview to end at all.</p> +<p>"Miss Weyland ..."</p> +<p>She turned on the threshold of the farther door. "I beg your +pardon! I thought you'd gone! Your hat?—I think you left it +in the hall, didn't you?"</p> +<p>"It is not my hat."</p> +<p>"Oh—what is it?"</p> +<p>"God knows," said the little Doctor, hoarsely.</p> +<p>He was standing in the middle of the floor, his hands jammed +into his trousers pockets, his hair tousled over a troubled brow, +his breast torn by emotions which were entirely new in his +experience and which he didn't even know the names of. All the +accumulation of his disruptive day was upon him. He felt both +terrifically upset inside, and interested to the degree of physical +pain in something or other, he had no idea what. Presently he +started walking up and down the room, nervous as a caged lion, eyes +fixed on space or on something within, while Sharlee stood in the +doorway watching him casually and unsurprised, as though just this +sort of thing took place in her little parlor regularly, seven +nights a week.</p> +<p>"Go ahead! Go ahead!" he broke out abruptly, coming to a halt. +"Pitch into me. Do it for all you're worth. I suppose you think +it's what I need."</p> +<p>"Certainly," said Sharlee, pleasantly.</p> +<p>She stood beside her chair again, flushed with a secret sense of +victory, liking him more for his temper and his control than she +ever could have liked him for his learning. But it was not her idea +that the little Doctor had got it anywhere near hard enough as +yet.</p> +<p>"Won't you sit down, Mr. Queed?"</p> +<p>It appeared that Mr. Queed would.</p> +<p>"I am paying you the extraordinary compliment," said Sharlee, +"of talking to you as others might talk about you behind your +back—in fact, as everybody does talk about you behind your +back. I do this on the theory that you are a serious and +honest-minded man, sincerely interested in learning the truth about +yourself and your failures, so that you may correct them. If you +are interested only in having your vanity fed by flattering +fictions, please say so right now. I have no time," she said, +hardly able for her life to suppress a smile, "for butterflies and +triflers."</p> +<p><i>Butterflies and triflers!</i> Mr. Queed, proprietor of the +famous Schedule, a butterfly and a trifler!</p> +<p>He said in a muffled voice: "Proceed."</p> +<p>"Since an editorial writer," said Sharlee, seating herself and +beginning with a paragraph as neat as a public speaker's, "must be +able, as his first qualification, to interest the common people, it +is manifest that he must be interested in the common people. He +must feel his bond of humanity with them, sympathize with them, +like them, love them. This is the great secret of Colonel Cowles's +success as an editor. A fine gentleman by birth, breeding, and +tradition, he is yet always a human being among human beings. All +his life he has been doing things with and for the people. He went +all through the war, and you might have thought the whole world +depended on him, the way he went up Cemetery Ridge on the 3rd of +July, 1863. He was shot all to pieces, but they patched him +together, and the next year there he was back in the fighting +around Petersburg. After the war he was a leader against the +carpet-baggers, and if this State is peaceful and prosperous and +comfortable for you to live in now, it is because of what men like +him and my father did a generation ago. When he took the +<i>Post</i> he went on just the same, working and thinking and +fighting for men and with men, and all in the service of the +people. I suppose, of course, his views through all these years +have not always been sound, but they have always been honest and +honorable, sensible, manly, and sweet. And they have always had a +practical relation with the life of the people. The result is that +he has thousands and thousands of readers who feel that their day +has been wanting in something unless they have read what he has to +say. There is Colonel Cowles—Does this interest you, Mr. +Queed? If not, I need not weary us both by continuing."</p> +<p>He again requested her, in the briefest possible way, to +proceed.</p> +<p>"Well! There is Colonel Cowles, whom you presume to despise, +because you know, or think you know, more political and social +science than he does. Where you got your preposterously exaggerated +idea of the value of text-book science I am at a loss to +understand. The people you aspire to lead—for that is what an +editorial writer must do—care nothing for it. That tired +bricklayer whom you dismiss with such contempt of course cares +nothing for it. But that bricklayer is the People, Mr. Queed. He is +the very man that Colonel Cowles goes to, and puts his hand on his +shoulder, and tries to help—help him to a better home, better +education for his children, more and more wholesome pleasures, a +higher and happier living. Colonel Cowles thinks of life as an +opportunity to live with and serve the common, average, everyday +people. You think of it as an opportunity to live by yourself and +serve your own ambition. He writes to the hearts of the people. You +write to the heads of scientists. Doubtless it will amaze you to be +told that his paragraph on the death of Moses Page, the Byrds' old +negro butler, was a far more useful article in every way than your +long critique on the currency system of Germany which appeared in +the same issue. Colonel Cowles is a big-hearted human being. +You—you are a scientific formula. And the worst of it is that +<i>you're proud of it!</i> The hopeless part of it is that you +actually consider a few old fossils as bigger than the live people +all around you! How can I show you your terrible mistake?... Why, +Mr. Queed, the life and example of a little girl ..." she stopped, +rather precipitately, stared hard at her hands, which were folded +in her lap, and went resolutely on: "The life and example of a +little girl like Fifi are worth more than all the text-books you +will ever write."</p> +<p>A silence fell. In the soft lamplight of the pretty room, Queed +sat still and silent as a marble man; and presently Sharlee, +plucking herself together, resumed:—</p> +<p>"Perhaps you now begin to glimpse a wider difference between +yourself and Colonel Cowles than mere unlikeness of literary style. +If you continue to think this difference all in your own favor, I +urge you to abandon any idea of writing editorials for the +<i>Post</i>. If on the other hand, you seriously wish to make good +your boast of this morning, I urge you to cease sneering at men +like Colonel Cowles, and humbly begin to try to imitate them. I say +that you are a failure as an editorial writer because you are a +failure as a man, and I say that you are a failure as a man because +you have no relation at all with man's life. You aspire to teach +and lead human beings, and you have not the least idea what a human +being is, and not the slightest wish to find out. All around you +are men, live men of flesh and blood, who are moving the world, and +you, whipping out your infinitesimal measuring-rod, dismiss them as +inferior cattle who know nothing of text-book science. Here is a +real and living world, and you roll through it like a +billiard-ball. And all because you make the fatal error of +mistaking a sorry handful of mummies for the universe."</p> +<p>"It is a curious coincidence," said Queed, with great but +deceptive mildness, "that Fifi said much the same thing to me, +though in quite a different way, this afternoon."</p> +<p>"She told me. But Fifi was not the first. You had the same +advice from your father two months ago."</p> +<p>"My father?"</p> +<p>"You have not forgotten his letter that you showed me in your +office one afternoon?"</p> +<p>It seemed that he had; but he had it in his pocket, as it +chanced, and dug it out, soiled and frayed from long confinement. +Stooping forward to introduce it into the penumbra of lamplight, he +read over the detective-story message: "<i>Make friends: mingle +with people and learn to like them. This is the earnest injunction +of Your father</i>."</p> +<p>"You complain of your father's treatment of you," said Sharlee, +"but he offered you a liberal education there, and you declined to +take it."</p> +<p>She glanced at the clock, turned about to the table and picked +up her beautiful bouquet. A pair of long bodkins with lavender +glass heads were waiting, it appeared; she proceeded to pin on her +flowers, adjusting them with careful attention; and rising, again +reviewed herself in the mantel-mirror. Then she sat down once more, +and calmly said:</p> +<p>"As you are a failure as an editorial writer and as a man, so +you are a failure as a sociologist ..."</p> +<p>It was the last straw, the crowning blasphemy. She hardly +expected him to endure it, and he did not; she was glad to have it +so. But the extreme mildness with which he interrupted her almost +unnerved her, so confidently had she braced herself for +violence.</p> +<p>"Do you mind if we omit that? I think I have heard enough about +my failures for one night."</p> +<p>He had risen, but stood, for a wonder, irresolute. It was too +evident that he did not know what to do next. Presently, having +nowhere else to go, he walked over to the mantel-shelf and leant +his elbow upon it, staring down at the floor. A considerable +interval passed, broken only by the ticking of the clock before he +said:—</p> +<p>"You may be an authority on editorial writing—even on +manhood—life. But I can hardly recognize you in that capacity +as regards sociology."</p> +<p>Sharlee made no reply. She had no idea that the young man's +dismissal from the <i>Post</i> had been a crucifixion to him, an +unendurable infamy upon his virginal pride of intellect. She had no +conception of his powers of self-control, which happened to be far +greater than her own, and she would have given worlds to know what +he was thinking at that moment. For her part she was thinking of +him, intensely, and in a personal way. Manners he had none, but +where did he get his manner? Who had taught him to bow in that way? +He had mentioned insults: where had he heard of insults, this stray +who had raised himself in the house of a drunken policeman?</p> +<p>"Well," said Queed, with the utmost calmness, "you might tell +me, in a word, why you think I am a failure as a sociologist."</p> +<p>"You are a failure as a sociologist," said Sharlee, immediately, +"for the same reason as both your other failures: you are wholly +out of relation with real life. Sociology is the science of human +society. You know absolutely nothing about human society, except +what other men have found out and written down in text-books. You +say that you are an evolutionary sociologist. Yet a wonderful +demonstration in social evolution is going on all around you, and +<i>you don't even know it</i>. You are standing here directly +between two civilizations. On the one side there are Colonel Cowles +and my old grandmother—mother of your landlady, plucky dear! +On the other there are our splendid young men, men who, with +traditions of leisure and cultured idleness in their blood, have +pitched in with their hands and heads to make this State +<i>hum</i>, and will soon be meeting and beating your Northern +young men at every turn. On one side there is the old slaveholding +aristocracy; on the other the finest Democracy in the world; and +here and now human society is evolving from one thing to the other. +A real sociologist would be absorbed in watching this marvelous +process: social evolution actually surprised in her workshop. But +you—I doubt if you even knew it was going on. A tremendous +social drama is being acted out under your very window and you yawn +and <i>pull down the blind</i>."</p> +<p>There was a brief silence. In the course of it the door-bell was +heard to ring; soon the door opened; a masculine murmur; then the +maid Mary's voice, clearly: "Yassuh, she's in.... Won't you rest +your coat, Mr. West?"</p> +<p>Mary entered the little back parlor, a card upon a tray. "Please +draw the folding doors," said Sharlee. "Say that I'll be in in a +few minutes."</p> +<p>They were alone once more, she and the little Doctor; the +silence enfolded them again; and she broke it by saying the last +word she had to say.</p> +<p>"I have gone into detail because I wanted to make the +unfavorable impression you produce upon your little world clear to +you, for once. But I can sum up all that I have said in less than +six words. If you remember anything at all that I have said, I wish +you would remember this. Mr. Queed, you are afflicted with a fatal +malady. Your cosmos is all Ego."</p> +<p>She started to rise, thought better of it, and sat still in her +flowered chair full in the lamplight. The little Doctor stood at +the mantel-shelf, his elbow upon it, and the silence lengthened. To +do something, Sharlee pulled off her right long glove and slowly +put it back again. Then she pulled off her left long glove, and +about the time she was buttoning the last button he began speaking, +in a curious, lifeless voice.</p> +<p>"I learned to read when I was four years old out of a copy of +the New York <i>Evening Post</i>. It came to the house, I remember, +distinctly, wrapped around two pork chops. That seemed to be all +the reading matter we had in the house for a long time—I +believe Tim was in hard luck in those days—and by the time I +was six I had read that paper all through from beginning to end, +five times. I have wondered since if that incident did not give a +bent to my whole mind. If you are familiar with the <i>Evening +Post</i>, you may appreciate what I mean.... It came out in me +exactly like a duck's yearning for water; that deep instinct for +the printed word. Of course Tim saw that I was different from him. +He helped me a little in the early stages, and then he stood back, +awed by my learning, and let me go my own gait. When I was about +eight, I learned of the existence of public libraries. I daresay it +would surprise you to know the books I was reading in this period +of my life—and writing too: for in my eleventh year I was the +author of a one-volume history of the world, besides several +treatises. And I early began to think, too. What was the +fundamental principle underlying the evolution of a higher and +higher human type? How could this principle be unified through all +branches of science and reduced to an operable law? Questions such +as these kept me awake at night while I still wore short trousers. +At fourteen I was boarding alone in a kind of tenement on the East +Side. Of course I was quite different from all the people around +me. Different. I don't remember that they showed any affectionate +interest in me, and why on earth should they? As I say, I was +different. There was nothing there to suggest a conception of that +brotherhood of man you speak of. I was born with this impulse for +isolation and work, and everything that happened to me only +emphasized it. I never had a day's schooling in my life, and never +a word of advice or admonition—never a scolding in all my +life till now. Here is a point on which your Christian theory of +living seems to me entirely too vague: how to reconcile individual +responsibility with the forces of heredity and circumstance. From +my point of view your talk would have been better rounded if you +had touched on that. Still, it was striking and interesting as it +was. I like to hear a clear statement of a point of view, and that +your statement happens to riddle me, personally, of course does not +affect the question in any way. If I regard human society and human +life too much as the biologist regards his rabbit, which appears to +be the gist of your criticism, I can at least cheerfully take my +own turn on the operating table as occasion requires. There is, of +course, a great deal that I might say in reply, but I do not +understand that either of us desires a debate. I will simply assert +that your fundamental conception of life, while novel and piquant, +will not hold water for a moment. Your conception is, if I state it +fairly, that a man's life, to be useful, to be a life of service, +must be given immediately to his fellows. He must do visible and +tangible things with other men. I think a little reflection will +convince you that, on the contrary, much or most of the best work +of the world has been done by men whose personal lives were not +unlike my own. There was Palissy, to take a familiar minor +instance. Of course his neighbors saw in him only a madman whose +cosmos was all Ego. Yet people are grateful to Palissy to-day, and +think little of the suffering of his wife and children. Newton was +no genial leader of the people. Bacon could not even be loyal to +his friends. The living world around Socrates put him to death. The +world's great wise men, inventors, scientists, philosophers, +prophets, have not usually spent their days rubbing elbows with the +bricklayer. Yet these men have served their race better than all +the good-fellows that ever lived. To each his gifts. If I succeed +in reducing the principle of human evolution to its eternal law, I +need not fear the judgment of posterity upon my life. I shall, in +fact, have performed the highest service to humankind that a finite +mind can hope to compass. Nevertheless, I am impressed by much that +you say. I daresay a good deal of it is valuable. All of it I +engage to analyze and consider dispassionately at my leisure. +Meantime, I thank you for your interest in the matter. +Good-evening."</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed."</p> +<p>Sharlee rose hurriedly, since hurry was so evidently necessary. +She felt profoundly stirred, she hardly knew why; all her airs of a +haughty princess were fled; and she intercepted him with no remnant +of her pretense that she was putting a shabby inferior in his +place.</p> +<p>"I want to tell you," she said, somewhat nervously, "that +I—I—admire very much the way you've taken this. No +ordinary man would have listened with such—"</p> +<p>"I never pretended to be an ordinary man."</p> +<p>He moved, but she stood unmoving in front of him, the pretty +portrait of a lady in blue, and the eyes that she fastened upon him +reminded him vaguely of Fifi's.</p> +<p>"Perhaps I—should tell you," said Sharlee, "just why +I—"</p> +<p>"Now don't," he said, smiling faintly at her with his old air of +a grandfather—"don't spoil it all by saying that you didn't +mean it."</p> +<p>Under his smile she colored a little, and, despite herself, +looked confused. He took advantage of her embarrassment to pass her +with another bow and go out, leaving her struggling desperately +with the feeling that he had got the best of her after all.</p> +<p>But the door opened again a little way, almost at once, and the +trim-cut, academic face, with the lamplight falling upon the round +glasses and blotting them out in a yellow smudge, appeared in the +crevice.</p> +<p>"By the way, you were wrong in saying that I pulled down my +blind on the evolutionary process now going on in the South. I give +four thousand words to it in my Historical Perspective, volume +one."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>In which Klinker quotes Scripture, and Queed has helped Fifi +with her Lessons for the Last Time.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The tax-articles in the <i>Post</i> had ceased after the +adjournment of the Legislature, which body gave no signs of ever +having heard of them. Mr. Queed's new series dealt authoritatively +with "Currency Systems of the World." He polished the systems off +at the rate of three a week. But he had asked and obtained +permission to submit, also, voluntary contributions on topics of +his own choosing, and now for a fortnight these offerings had died +daily in Colonel Cowles's waste-basket.</p> +<p>As for his book, Queed could not bear to think of it in these +days. Deliberately he had put a winding-sheet about his heart's +desire, and laid it away in a drawer, until such time as he had +indisputably qualified himself to be editor of the <i>Post</i>. +Having qualified, he could open that drawer again, with a rushing +access of stifled ardor, and await the Colonel's demise; but to do +this, he figured now, would take him not less than two months and a +half. Two months and a half wrenched from the Schedule! That sacred +bill of rights not merely corrupted, but for a space nullified and +cancelled! Yes, it was the ultimate sacrifice that outraged pride +of intellect had demanded; but the young man would not flinch. And +there were moments when Trainer Klinker was startled by the +close-shut misery of his face.</p> +<p>The Scriptorium had been degraded into a sickening school of +journalism. Day after day, night after night, Queed sat at his tiny +table poring over back files of the <i>Post</i>, examining Colonel +Cowles's editorials as a geologist examines a Silurian deposit. He +analyzed, classified, tabulated, computed averages, worked out +underlying laws; and gradually, with great travail—for the +journalese language was to him as Greek to another—he deduced +from a thousand editorials a few broad principles, somewhat as +follows:—</p> +<p>1. That the Colonel dealt with a very wide range of concrete +topics, including many that appeared extremely trivial. (Whereas +he, Queed, had dealt almost exclusively with abstract principles, +rarely taking cognizance of any event that had happened later than +1850.)</p> +<p>2. That nearly all the Colonel's "best" +articles—<i>i.e.</i>, best-liked, most popular: the kind that +Major Brooke and Mr. Bylash, or even Miss Miller, were apt to talk +about at the supper-table—dealt with topics of a purely local +and ephemeral interest.</p> +<p>3. That the Colonel never went deeply or exhaustively into any +group of facts, but that, taking one broad simple hypothesis as his +text, he hammered that over and over, saying the same thing again +and again in different ways, but always with a wealth of imagery +and picturesque phrasing.</p> +<p>4. That the Colonel invariably got his humorous effects by a +good-natured but sometimes sharp ridicule, the process of which was +to exaggerate the argument or travesty the cause he was attacking +until it became absurd.</p> +<p>5. That the Colonel, no matter what his theme, always wrote with +vigor and heat and color: so that even if he were dealing with +something on the other side of the world, you might suppose that +he, personally, was intensely gratified or extremely indignant +about it, as the case might be.</p> +<p>These principles Queed was endeavoring, with his peculiar +faculty for patient effort, to apply practically in his daily +offerings. It is enough to say that he found the task harder than +Klinker's Exercises, and that the little article on the city's +method of removing garbage, which failed to appear in this +morning's <i>Post</i>, had stood him seven hours of time.</p> +<p>It was a warm rainy night in early May. Careful listening +disclosed the fact that Buck Klinker, who had as usual walked up +from the gymnasium with Queed, was changing his shoes in the next +room, preparatory for supper. Otherwise the house was very still. +Fifi had been steadily reported "not so well" for a long time and, +for two days, very ill. Queed sitting before the table, his gas +ablaze and his shade up, tilted back his chair and thought of her +now. All at once, with no conscious volition on his part, he found +himself saying over the startling little credo that Fifi had +suggested for his taking, on the day he sent her the roses.</p> +<p><i>To like men and do the things that men do. To smoke. To +laugh. To joke and tell funny stories. To take a ...</i></p> +<p>The door of the Scriptorium-editorium opened and Buck Klinker, +entering without formalities, threw himself, according to his +habit, upon the tiny bed. This time he came by invitation, to +complete the decidedly interesting conversation upon which the two +men had walked up town; but talk did not at once begin. A book +rowelled the small of Klinker's back as he reclined upon the +pillow, and plucking it from beneath him, he glanced at the back of +it.</p> +<p>"<i>Vanity Fair</i>. Didn't know you ever read story-books, +Doc."</p> +<p>The Doc did not answer. He was occupied with the thought that +not one of the things that Fifi had urged upon him did he at +present do. Smoking he could of course take up at any time. Buck +Klinker worked in a tobacconist's shop; it might be a good idea to +consult him as to what was the best way to begin. As for telling +funny stories—did he for the life of him know one to tell? He +racked his brain in vain. There were two books that he remembered +having seen in the Astor Library, <i>The Percy Anecdotes</i>, and +Mark Lemon's <i>Jest Book</i>; perhaps the State Library had +them.... Stay! Did not Willoughby himself somewhere introduce an +anecdote of a distinctly humorous nature?</p> +<p>"It ain't much," said Buck, dropping Thackeray to the floor. "I +read the whole thing once.—No, I guess I'm thinkin' of <i>The +County Fair</i>, a drammer that I saw at the Bee-jou. But I guess +they're all the same, those Fairs."</p> +<p>"Say Doc," he went on presently, "I'm going to double you on +Number Seven, beginning from to-morrow, hear?"</p> +<p>Number Seven was one of the stiffest of Klinker's Exercises for +All Parts of the Body. Queed looked up absently.</p> +<p>"That's right," said his trainer, inexorably. "It's just what +you need. I had a long talk with Smithy, last night."</p> +<p>"Buck," said the Doctor, clearing his throat, "have I +ever—ahem—told you of the famous reply of Dr. Johnson +to the Billingsgate fishwives?"</p> +<p>"Johnson? Who? Fat, sandy-haired man lives on Third Street?"</p> +<p>"No, Dr. Samuel Johnson, the well-known English author +and—character. It is related that on one occasion Dr. Johnson +approached the fishwives at Billingsgate to purchase of their +wares. The exact details of the story are not altogether clear in +my memory, but, as I recall it, something the good Doctor said +angered these women, for they began showering him with profane and +blasphemous names. At this style of language the fishwives are said +to be extremely proficient. What do you fancy that Dr. Johnson +called them in return? But you could hardly guess. He called them +parallelopipedons. I am not entirely certain whether it was +parallelopipedons or isosceles triangles. Possibly there are two +versions of the story."</p> +<p>Buck stared at him, frankly and greatly bewildered, and noticed +that the little Doctor was staring at him, with strong marks of +anxiety on his face.</p> +<p>"I should perhaps say," added Queed, "that parallelopipedons and +isosceles triangles are not profane or swearing words at all. They +are, in fact, merely the designations applied to geometrical +figures."</p> +<p>"Oh," said Klinker. "Oh."</p> +<p>There was a brief pause.</p> +<p>"Ah, well!... Go on with what you were telling me as we walked +up, then!"</p> +<p>"Sure thing. But I don't catch the conversation. What was all +that con you were giving me—?"</p> +<p>"Con?"</p> +<p>"About Johnson and the triangles."</p> +<p>"It simply occurred to me to tell you a funny story, of the sort +that men are known to like, with the hope of amusing +you—"</p> +<p>"Why, that wasn't a funny story, Doc."</p> +<p>"I assure you that it was."</p> +<p>"Don't see it," said Klinker.</p> +<p>"That is not my responsibility, in any sense."</p> +<p>Thus Doctor Queed, sitting stiffly on his hard little chair, and +gazing with annoyance at Klinker through the iron bars at the foot +of the bed.</p> +<p>"Blest if I pipe," said Buck, and scratched his head.</p> +<p>"I cannot both tell the stories and furnish the brains to +appreciate them. Kindly proceed with what you were telling me."</p> +<p>So Buck, obliging but mystified, dropped back upon the bed and +proceeded, tooth-pick energetically at work. His theme was a +problem with which nearly every city is unhappily familiar. In +Buck's terminology, it was identified as "The Centre Street +mashers": those pimply, weak-faced, bad-eyed young men who +congregate at prominent corners every afternoon, especially +Saturdays, to smirk at the working-girls, and to pass, wherever +they could, from their murmured, "Hello, Kiddo," and "Where you +goin', baby?" to less innocent things.</p> +<p>Buck's air of leisureliness dropped from him as he talked; his +orange-stick worked ever more and more furiously; his honest voice +grew passionate as he described conditions as he knew them.</p> +<p>"... And some fool of a girl, no more than a child for knowing +what she's doin', laughs and answers back—just for the fun of +it, not looking for harm, and right there's where your trouble +begins. Maybe that night after doin' the picture shows; maybe +another night; but it's sure to come. Dammit, Doc, I'm no saint nor +sam-singer and I've done things I hadn't ought like other men, and +woke up shamed the next morning, too, but I've got a sister who's a +decent good girl as there is anywhere, and by God, sir, I'd +<i>kill</i> a man who just looked at her with the dirty eyes of +them little soft-mouth blaggards!"</p> +<p>Queed, unaffectedly interested, asked the usual +question—could not the girls be taught at home the dangers of +such acquaintances?—and Buck pulverized it in the usual +way.</p> +<p>"Who in blazes is goin' to teach 'em? Don't you know +<i>anything</i> about what kind of homes they got? Why, man, +they're <i>the sisters of the little blaggards!</i>"</p> +<p>He painted a dark picture of the home-life of many of these +girls: its hard work and unrelenting poverty; its cheerlessness; +the absence of any fun; the irresistible allurement of the +flashily-dressed stranger who jingles money in his pocket and +offers to "show a good time." Then he told a typical story, the +story of a little girl he knew, who worked in a department store +for three dollars and a half a week, and whose drunken father took +over the last cent of that every Saturday night. This girl's name +was Eva Bernheimer, and she was sixteen years old and "in +trouble."</p> +<p>"You know what, Doc?" Buck ended. "You'd ought to take it up in +the <i>Post</i>—that's what. There's a fine piece to be +written, showin' up them little hunters."</p> +<p>It was characteristic of Doctor Queed that such an idea had not +and would not have occurred to him: applying his new science of +editorial writing to a practical problem dipped from the stream of +everyday life was still rather beyond him. But it was also +characteristic of him that, once the idea had been suggested to +him, he instantly perceived its value. He looked at Buck admiringly +through the iron bars.</p> +<p>"You are quite right. There is."</p> +<p>"You know they are trying to get up a reformatory—girls' +home, some call it. That's all right, if you can't do better, but +it don't get to the bottom of it. The right way with a thing like +this is to <i>take it before it happens!</i>"</p> +<p>"You are quite right, Buck."</p> +<p>"Yes—but how're you goin' to do it? You sit up here all +day and night with your books and studies, Doc—where's your +cure for a sorry trouble like this?"</p> +<p>"That is a fair question. I cannot answer definitely until I +have studied the situation out in a practical way. But I will say +that the general problem is one of the most difficult with which +social science has to deal."</p> +<p>"I know what had ought to be done. The blaggards ought to be +shot. Damn every last one of them, I say."</p> +<p>Klinker conversed in his anger something like the ladies of +Billingsgate, but Queed did not notice this. He sat back in his +chair, absorbedly thinking that here, at all events, was a theme +which had enough practical relation with life. He himself had seen +a group of the odious "mashers" with his own eyes; Buck had pointed +them out as they walked up. Never had a social problem come so +close home to him as this: not a thing of text-book theories, but a +burning issue working out around the corner on people that Klinker +knew. And Klinker's question had been an acute one, challenging the +immediate value of social science itself.</p> +<p>His thought veered, swept out of its channel by an unwonted wave +of bitterness. Klinker had offered him this material, Klinker had +advised him to write an editorial about it, Klinker had pointed out +for him, in almost a superior way, just where the trouble lay. Nor +was this all. Of late everybody seemed to be giving him advice. +Only the other week it was Fifi; and that same day, the young lady +Charles Weyland. What was there about him that invited this sort of +thing?... And he was going to take Klinker's advice; he had seized +upon it gratefully. Nor could he say that he was utterly insensate +to Fifi's: he had caught himself saying over part of it not ten +minutes ago. As for Charles Weyland's ripsaw criticisms, he had +analyzed them dispassionately, as he had promised, and his reason +rejected them in toto. Yet he could not exactly say that he had +wholly purged them out of his mind. No ... the fact was that some +of her phrases had managed to burn themselves into his brain.</p> +<p>Presently Klinker said another thing that his friend the little +Doctor remembered for a long time.</p> +<p>"Do you know what's the finest line in Scripture, Doc? <i>But He +spake of the temple of His body.</i> I heard a minister get that +off in a church once, in a sermon, and I don't guess I'll ever +forget it. A dandy, ain't it?... Exercise and live straight. Keep +your temple strong and clean. If I was a parson, I tell you, I'd go +right to Seventh and Centre next Saturday and give a talk to them +blaggards on that. <i>But He spake of</i> ..."</p> +<p>Klinker stopped as though he had been shot. A sudden agonized +scream from downstairs jerked him off the bed and to his feet in a +second solemn as at the last trump. He stared at Queed wide-eyed, +his honest red face suddenly white.</p> +<p>"God forgive me for talkin' so loud.... I'd ought to have +known...."</p> +<p>"What is it? Who was that?" demanded Queed, startled more by +Klinker's look than by that scream.</p> +<p>But Klinker only turned and slipped softly out of the door, +tipping on his toes as though somebody near at hand were +asleep.</p> +<p>Queed was left bewildered, and completely at a loss. Whatever +the matter was, it clearly concerned Buck Klinker. Equally clearly, +it did not concern him. People had a right to scream if they felt +that way, without having a horde of boarders hurry out and call +them to book.</p> +<p>However, his scientist's fondness for getting at the underlying +causes—or as some call it, curiosity—presently obtained +control of him, and he went downstairs.</p> +<p>There is no privacy of grief in the communism of a middle-class +boarding-house. It is ordered that your neighbor shall gaze upon +your woe and you shall stare at his anguish, when both are new and +raw. That cry of pain had been instantly followed by a stir of +movement; a little shiver ran through the house. Doors opened and +shut; voices murmured; quick feet sounded on the stairs. Now the +boarders were gathered in the parlor, very still and solemn, yet +not to save their lives unaware that for them the humdrum round was +to go on just the same. And here, of course, is no matter of a +boarding-house: for queens must eat though kings lie high in +state.</p> +<p>To Mrs. Paynter's parlor came a girl, white-faced and +shadowy-eyed, but for those hours at least, calm and tearless and +the mistress of herself. The boarders rose as she appeared in the +door, and she saw that after all she had no need to tell them +anything. They came and took her hand, one by one, which was the +hardest to bear, and even Mr. Bylash seemed touched with a new +dignity, and even Miss Miller's pompadour looked human and sorry. +But two faces Miss Weyland did not see among the kind-eyed +boarders: the old professor, who had locked himself in his room, +and the little Doctor who was at that moment coming down the +steps.</p> +<p>"Supper's very late," said she. "Emma and Laura ... have been +much upset. I'll have it on the table in a minute."</p> +<p>She turned into the hall and saw Queed on the stairs. He halted +his descent five steps from the bottom, and she came to the +banisters and stood and looked up at him. And if any memory of +their last meeting was with them then, neither of them gave any +sign of it.</p> +<p>"You know—?"</p> +<p>"No, I don't know," he replied, disturbed by her look, he did +not know why, and involuntarily lowering his voice. "I came down +expressly to find out."</p> +<p>"Fifi—She—"</p> +<p>"Is worse again?"</p> +<p>"She ... stopped breathing a few minutes ago."</p> +<p>"<i>Dead!</i>"</p> +<p>Sharlee winced visibly at the word, as the fresh stricken always +will.</p> +<p>The little Doctor turned his head vaguely away. The house was so +still that the creaking of the stairs as his weight shifted from +one foot to another, sounded horribly loud; he noticed it, and +regretted having moved. The idea of Fifi's dying had of course +never occurred to him. Something put into his head the simple +thought that he would never help the little girl with her algebra +again, and at once he was conscious of an odd and decidedly +unpleasant sensation, somewhere far away inside of him. He felt +that he ought to say something, to sum up his attitude toward the +unexpected event, but for once in his life he experienced a +difficulty in formulating his thought in precise language. However, +the pause was of the briefest.</p> +<p>"I think," said Sharlee, "the funeral will be Monday +afternoon.... You will go, won't you?"</p> +<p>Queed turned upon her a clouded brow. The thought of taking +personal part in such mummery as a funeral—"barbaric rites," +he called them in the forthcoming Work—was entirely +distasteful to him. "No," he said, hastily. "No, I could hardly do +that—"</p> +<p>"Fifi—would like it. It is the last time you will have to +do anything for her."</p> +<p>"Like it? It is hardly as if she would know—!"</p> +<p>"Mightn't you show your regard for a friend just the same, even +if your friend was never to know about it?... Besides—I think +of these things another way, and so did Fifi."</p> +<p>He peered down at her over the banisters, oddly disquieted. The +flaring gas lamp beat mercilessly upon her face, and it occurred to +him that she looked tired around her eyes.</p> +<p>"I think Fifi will know ... and be glad," said Sharlee. "She +liked and admired you. Only day before yesterday she spoke of you. +Now she ... has gone, and this is the one way left for any of us to +show that we are sorry."</p> +<p>Long afterwards, Queed thought that if Charles Weyland's lashes +had not glittered with sudden tears at that moment he would have +refused her. But her lashes did so glitter, and he capitulated at +once; and turning instantly went heavy-hearted up the stairs.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>In a Country Churchyard, and afterwards; of Friends: how they +take your Time while they live, and then die, upsetting your +Evening's Work; and what Buck Klinker saw in the Scriptorium at 2 +a.m.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Queed was caught, like many another rationalist before him, by +the stirring beauty of the burial service of the English +church.</p> +<p>Fifi's funeral was in the country, at a little church set down +in a beautiful grove which reminds all visitors of the saying about +God's first temples. Near here Mrs. Paynter was born and spent her +girlhood; here Fifi, before her last illness, had come every +Sabbath morning to the Sunday-school; here lay the little strip of +God's acre that the now childless widow called her own. You come by +the new electric line, one of those high-speed suburban roads +which, all over the country, are doing so much to persuade city +people back to the land. The cars are steam-road size. Two of them +had been provided for the mourners, and there was no room to spare; +for the Paynter family connection was large, and it seemed that +little Fifi had many friends.</p> +<p>From Stop 11, where the little station is, your course is by the +woodland path; past the little springhouse, over the tiny rustic +bridge, and so on up the shady slope to the cluster of ancient +pines. In the grove stood carriages; buggy horses reined to the +tall trees; even that abomination around a church, the motor of the +vandals. In the walk through the woods, Queed found himself side by +side with a fat, scarlet-faced man, who wore a vest with brass +buttons and immediately began talking to him like a lifelong +friend. He was a motorman on the suburban line, it seemed, and had +known Fifi very well.</p> +<p>"No, sir, I wouldn't believe it when my wife seen it in the +paper and called it out to me, an' I says there's some mistake, you +can be sure, and she says no, here it is in the paper, you can read +it for y'self. But I wouldn't believe it till I went by the house +on the way to my run, and there was the crape on the door. An' I +tell you, suh, I couldn't a felt worse if 'twas one o' my own kids. +Why, it seems like only the other morning she skipped onto my car, +laughin' and sayin', 'How are you to-day, Mr. Barnes?' Why she and +me been buddies for nigh three years, and she took my 9.30 north +car every Sunday morning, rain or shine, just as reg'lar, and was +the only one I ever let stand out on <i>my</i> platform, bein' +strictly agin all rules, and my old partner Hornheim was fired for +allowin' it, it ain't six months since. But what could I do when +she asked me, <i>please, Mr. Barnes</i>, with that sweet face o' +hers, and her rememberin' me every Christmas that came along just +like I was her Pa...."</p> +<p>The motorman talked too much, but he proved useful in finding +seats up near the front, where, being fat, he took up considerably +more than his share of room.</p> +<p>Unless Tim had taken him to the Cathedral once, twenty years +ago, it was the first time that Queed had ever been inside a +church. He had read Renan at fourteen, finally discarding all +religious beliefs in the same year. Approximately Spencer's First +Cause satisfied his reason, though he meant to buttress Spencer's +contention in its weakest place and carry it deeper than Spencer +did. But in fact, the exact limits he should assign to religious +beliefs as an evolutionary function were still indeterminate in his +system. He, like all cosmic philosophers, found this the most +baffling and elusive of all his problems. Meantime, here in this +little country church, he was to witness the supreme rite of the +supreme religious belief. There was some compensation for his +enforced attendance in that thought. He looked about him with +genuine and candid interest. The hush, the dim light, the rows upon +rows of sober-faced people, seemed to him properly impressive. He +was struck by the wealth of flowers massed all over the chancel, +and wondered if that was its regular state. The pulpit and the +lectern; the altar, which he easily identified; the stained-glass +windows with their obviously symbolic pictures; the bronze pipes of +the little organ; the unvested choir, whose function he vaguely +made out—over all these his intelligent eye swept, curiously; +and lastly it went out of the open window and lost itself in the +quiet sunny woods outside.</p> +<p>Strange and full of wonder. This incredible instinct for +adoration—this invincible insistence in believing, in +defiance of all reason, that man was not born to die as the flesh +dies. What, after all, was the full significance of this unique +phenomenon?</p> +<p><i>I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that +believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live....</i></p> +<p>A loud resonant voice suddenly cut the hush with these words and +immediately they were all standing. Queed was among the first to +rise; the movement was like a reflex action. For there was +something in the thrilling timbre of that voice that seemed to pull +him to his feet regardless of his will; something, in fact, that +impelled him to crane his neck around and peer down the dim aisle +to discover immediately who was the author of it.</p> +<p>His eye fell on a young man advancing, clad in white robes the +like of which he had never seen, and wearing the look of the +morning upon his face. In his hands he bore an open book, but he +did not glance at it. His head was thrown back; his eyes seemed +fastened on something outside and beyond the church; and he rolled +out the victorious words as though he would stake all that he held +dearest in this world that their prophecy was true.</p> +<p><i>Whom I shall see for myself, and</i> MINE <i>eyes shall +behold, and not another....</i></p> +<p>But behind the young man rolled a little stand on wheels, on +which lay a long box banked in flowers; and though the little +Doctor had never been at a funeral before, and never in the +presence of death, he knew that here must lie the mortal remains of +his little friend, Fifi. From this point onward Queed's interest in +the service became, so to say, less purely scientific.</p> +<p>There was some antiphonal reciting, and then a long selection +which the young man in robes read with the same voice of solemn +triumph. It is doubtful if anybody in the church followed him with +the fascinated attention of the young evolutionist. Soon the organ +rumbled, and the little choir, standing, broke into song.</p> +<p>For all the Saints who from their labors rest....</p> +<p>Saints! Well, well, was it imaginable that they thought of Fifi +that way <i>already</i>? Why, it was only three weeks ago that he +had sent her the roses and she....</p> +<p>A black-gloved hand, holding an open book, descended out of the +dim space behind him. It came to him, as by an inspiration, that +the book was being offered for his use in some mysterious +connection. He grasped it gingerly, and his friend the motorman, +jabbing at the text with a scarlet hand, whispered raucously: "'S +what they're singin'." But the singers had traveled far before the +young man was able to find and follow them.</p> +<p>And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,<br /> +Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,<br /> +And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.</p> +<p>The girls in the choir sang on, untroubled by a +doubt:—</p> +<p>But lo, there breaks a yet more glorious day;<br /> +The saints triumphant rise in bright array;<br /> +The King of glory passes on His way.</p> +<p>They marched outside following the flower-banked casket into the +little cemetery, and Queed stood with bared head like the others, +watching the committal of dust unto dust. In the forefront of the +mournful gathering, nearest the grave's edge, there stood three +women heavily swathed in black. Through all the rite now, +suppressed sobbing ran like a motif. Soon fell upon all ears the +saddest of all sounds, the pitiless thud of the first earth upon +the stiff lid. On the other side of the irregular circle, Queed saw +the coarse red motorman; tears were rolling down his fat cheeks; +but never noticing them he was singing loudly, far off the key, +from the book the black-gloved hand had given Queed. The hymn they +were singing now also spoke surely and naturally of the saints. The +same proud note, the young man observed, ran through the service +from beginning to end. Hymn and prayer and reading all confidently +assumed that Fifi was dead only to this mortal eye, but in another +world, open to all those gathered about the grave for their +seeking, she lived in some marvelously changed form—her body +being made <i>like unto his own glorious body</i>....</p> +<p>In the homeward-bound car, Queed fully recaptured his poise, and +redirected his thoughts into rational channels.</p> +<p>The doctrine of the immortality of the soul had not a rational +leg to stand on. The anima, or spirit, being merely the product of +certain elements combined in life, was wiped out when those +elements dissolved their union in death. It was the flame of a +candle blown out. Yet with what unbelievable persistence this +doctrine had survived through history. Science had annihilated it +again and again, but these people resolutely stopped their ears to +science. They could not answer science with argument, so they had +answered her with the axe and the stake; and they were still +capable of doing that whenever they thought it desirable. Strange +spectacle! What was the "conflict between Religion and Science" but +man's desperate struggle against his own reason? Benjamin Kidd had +that right at any rate.</p> +<p>Yet did these people really believe their doctrine of the saved +body and the saved soul? They said they did, but did they? If they +believed it surely, as they believed that this night would be +followed by a new day, if they believed it passionately as they +believed that money is the great earthly good, then certainly the +biggest of their worldly affairs would be less than a grain of sand +by the sea against the everlasting glories that awaited them. Yet +... look at them all about him in the car, these people who told +themselves that they had started Fifi on the way to be a saint, in +which state they expected to remeet her. Did they so regard their +worldly affairs? By to-morrow they would be at each other's +throats, squabbling, cheating, slandering, lying, fighting +desperately to gain some ephemeral advantage—all under the +eye of the magnificent guerdon they pretended to believe in and +knew they were jeopardizing by such acts. No, it was pure +self-hypnosis. Weak man demanded offsets for his earthly woes, and +he had concocted them in a world of his own imagining. That was the +history of man's religions; the concoction of other-worldly offsets +for worldly woes. In their heart of hearts, all knew that they were +concoctions, and the haruspices laughed when they met each +other.</p> +<p>Supper was early at Mrs. Paynter's, as though to atone for the +tardiness of yesterday. The boarders dispatched it not without +recurring cheerfulness, broken now and again by fits of decorous +silence. You could see that by to-morrow, or it might be next day, +the house would be back in its normal swing again.</p> +<p>Mr. Queed withdrew to his little chamber. He trod the steps +softly for once, and perhaps this was why, as he passed Mrs. +Paynter's room, his usually engrossed ear caught the sound of +weeping, quiet but unrestrained, ceaseless, racking weeping, +running on evermore, the weeping of Rachel for her children, who +would not be comforted.</p> +<p>The little Doctor shut the door of the Scriptorium and lit the +gas. So far, his custom; but here his whim and his wont parted. +Instead of seating himself at his table, where the bound +<i>Post</i> for January-March, 1902, awaited his exploration, he +laid himself down on his tiny bed.</p> +<p>If he were to die to-night, who would weep for him like +that?</p> +<p>The thought had come unbidden to his mind and stuck in his +metaphysics like a burr. Now he remembered that the question was +not entirely a new one. Fifi had once asked him who would be sorry +if he died, and had answered herself by saying that she would. +However, Fifi was dead, and therefore released from her +promise.</p> +<p>Yes, Fifi was dead. He would never help her with her algebra +again. The thought filled him with vague, unaccountable regrets. He +felt that he would willingly take twenty minutes a night from the +wrecked Schedule to have her come back, but unfortunately there was +no way of arranging that now. He remembered the night he had sent +Fifi out of the dining-room for coughing, and the remembrance made +him distinctly uncomfortable. He rather wished that he had told +Fifi he was sorry about that, but it was too late now. Still he had +told her that he was her friend; he was glad to remember that. But +here, from a new point of view, was the trouble about having +friends. They took your time while they lived, and then they went +off and died and upset your evening's work.</p> +<p>Clearly, Fifi left behind many sorrowful friends, as shown by +her remarkable funeral. If he himself were to die, Tim and Murphy +Queed would probably feel sorrowful, but they would hardly come to +the funeral. For one thing, Tim could not come because of his +duties on the force, and Murphy, for all he knew, was undergoing +incarceration. About the only person he could think of as a +probable attendant at his graveside was William Klinker. Yes, Buck +would certainly be there, though it was asking a good deal to +expect him to weep. A funeral consisting of only one person would +look rather odd to those who were familiar with such crowded +churches as that he had seen to-day. People passing by would nudge +each other and say that the dead must have led an eccentric life, +indeed, to be so alone at the end.... Come to think of it, though, +there wouldn't be any funeral. He had nothing to do with those most +interesting but clearly barbaric rites. Of course his body would be +cremated by directions in the will. The operation would be private, +attracting no attention from anybody. Buck would make the +arrangements. He tried to picture Buck weeping near the +incinerator, and failed.</p> +<p>Then there was his father, whom, in twenty-four years' sharing +of the world together, he had never met. The man's behavior was +odd, to say the least. From the world's point of view he had +declined to own his son. For such an unusual breach of custom, +there must be some adequate explanation, and the circumstances all +pointed one way. This was that his mother (whom his boyhood had +pictured as a woman of distinction who had eloped with somebody far +beneath her) had failed to marry his father. The persistent mystery +about his birth had always made him skeptical of Tim's statement +that he had been present at the marriage. But he rarely thought of +the matter at all now. The moral responsibility was none of his; +and as for a name, Queed was as good as any other. X or Y was a +good enough name for a real man, whose life could demonstrate his +utter independence of the labels so carefully pasted upon him by +environment and circumstance.</p> +<p>Still, if he were to die, he felt that his father, if yet alive, +should come forward and weep for him, even as Mrs. Paynter was +weeping for Fifi down in the Second Front. He should stand out like +a man and take from Buck's hand the solemn ceremonies of cremation. +He tried to picture his father weeping near the incinerator, and +failed, partly owing to the mistiness surrounding that gentleman's +bodily appearance. He felt that his father was dodging his just +responsibilities. For the first time in his life he perceived that, +under certain circumstances, it might be an advantage to have some +definite individual to whom you can point and say: "There goes my +father."</p> +<p>As it was, it all came down to him and Buck. He and Buck were +alone in the world together. He rather clung to the thought of +Buck, and instantly caught himself at it. Very well; let him take +it that way then. Take Buck as a symbol of the world, of those +friendships which played such certain havoc with a man's Schedule. +Was he glad that he had Buck or was he not?</p> +<p>The little Doctor lay on his back in the glare thinking things +out. The gas in his eyes was an annoyance, but he did not realize +it, and so did not get up, as another man would have done, and put +it out.</p> +<p>Certainly it was an extraordinary thing that the only critics he +had ever had in his life had all three attacked his theory of +living at precisely the same point. They had all three urged him to +get in touch with his environment. He himself could unanswerably +demonstrate that in such degree as he succeeded in isolating +himself from his environment—at least until his great work +was done—in just that degree would his life be successful. +But these three seemed to declare, with the confidence of those who +state an axiom, that in just that degree was his life a failure. Of +course they could not demonstrate their contention as he could +demonstrate his, but the absence of reasoning did not appear to +shake their assurance in the smallest. Here then was another +apparent conflict of instinct with reason: their instinct with his +reason. Perhaps he might have dismissed the whole thing as merely +their religion, but that his father, with that mysterious letter of +counsel, was among them. He did not picture his father as a +religious man. Besides, Fifi, asked point-blank if that was her +religion, had denied, assuring him, singularly enough, that it was +only common-sense.</p> +<p>And among them, among all the people that had touched him in +this new life, there was no denying that he had had some curiously +unsettling experiences.</p> +<p>He had been ready to turn the pages of the book of life for +Fifi, an infant at his knee, and all at once Fifi had taken the +book from his hands and read aloud, in a language which was quite +new to him, a lecture on his own short-comings. There was no +denying that her question about his notions on altruism had given +him an odd, arresting glimpse of himself from a new peak. He had +set out in his pride to punish Mr. Pat, and Mr. Pat had severely +punished him, revealing him humiliatingly to himself as a physical +incompetent. He had dismissed Buck Klinker as a faintly amusing +brother to the ox, and now Buck Klinker was giving him valuable +advice about his editorial work, to say nothing of jerking him by +the ears toward physical competency. He had thought to honor the +<i>Post</i> by contributing of his wisdom to it, and the +<i>Post</i> had replied by contemptuously kicking him out. He had +laughed at Colonel Cowles's editorials, and now he was staying out +of bed of nights slavishly struggling to imitate them. He had meant +to give Miss Weyland some expert advice some day about the running +of her department, and suddenly she had turned about and stamped +him as an all-around failure, meet not for reverence, but the +laughter and pity of men.</p> +<p>So far as he knew, nobody in the world admired him. They might +admire his work, but him personally they felt sorry for or +despised. Few even admired his work. The <i>Post</i> had given him +satisfactory proof of that. Conant, Willoughby, and Smathers would +admire it—yes, wish to the Lord that they had written it. But +would that fill his cup to overflowing? By the way, had not Fifi +asked him that very question, too—whether he would consider a +life of that sort a successful life? Well—would he? Or could +it imaginably be said that Fifi, rather, had had a successful life, +as evidenced by her profoundly interesting funeral?</p> +<p>Was it possible that a great authority on human society could +make himself an even greater authority by personally assuming a +part in the society which he theoretically administered? Was it +possible that he was missing some factor of large importance by his +addiction to isolation and a schedule?</p> +<p>In short, was it conceivable that he had it all wrong from the +beginning, as the young lady Charles Weyland had said?</p> +<p>The little Doctor lay still on his bed and his precious minutes +slipped into hours.... If he finished his book at twenty-seven, +what would he do with the rest of his life? Besides defending it +from possible criticism, besides expounding and amplifying it a +little further as need seemed to be, there would be no more work +for him to do. Supreme essence of philosophy, history, and all +science as it was, it was the final word of human wisdom. You might +say that with it the work of the world was done. How then should he +spend the remaining thirty or forty years of his life? As matters +stood now he had, so to say, twenty years start on himself. Through +the peculiar circumstances of his life, he had reached a point in +his reading and study at twenty-four which another man could not +hope to reach before he was forty-five or fifty. Other men had done +daily work for a livelihood, and had only their evenings for their +heart's desire. Spencer was a civil engineer. Mill was a clerk in +an India house. Comte taught mathematics. But he, in all his life, +had not averaged an hour a week's enforced distraction: all had +gone to his own work. You might say that he was entitled to a heavy +arrears in this direction. If he liked, he could idle for ten +years, twenty years, and still be more than abreast of his age.</p> +<p>And as it was, he could not pretend that he had kept the faith, +that he was inviolably holding his Schedule unspotted from the +world. No, he himself had outraged and deflowered the Schedule. +Klinker's Exercises and the <i>Post</i> were deliberate impieties. +And he could not say that they had the sanction of his reason. The +exercises had only a partial sanction; the <i>Post</i> no sanction +at all. Both were but sops to wounded pride. Here, then, was a +pretty situation: he, the triumphant rationalist, the toy of +utterly irrational impulses—of an utterly irrational +instinct. And this new impulse tugging at his inside, driving him +to heed the irrational advice of his critics—what could it be +but part and parcel of the same mysterious but apparently +deep-seated instinct? And what was the real significance of this +instinct, and what in the name of Jerusalem was the matter with him +anyway?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>He was twenty-four years old, without upbringing, and utterly +alone in the world. He had raised himself, body and soul, out of +printed books, and about all the education he ever had was half an +hour's biting talk from Charles Weyland. Of course he did not +recognize his denied youth when it rose and fell upon him, but he +did recognize that his assailant was doughty. He locked arms with +it and together they fell into undreamed depths.</p> +<p>Buck Klinker, returning from some stag devilry at the hour of +two A.M., and attracted to the Scriptorium by the light under the +door, found the little Doctor pacing the floor in his stocking +feet, with the gas blazing and the shade up as high as it would go. +He halted in his marchings to stare at Buck with wild +unrecognition, and his face looked so white and fierce that honest +Buck, like the good friend he was, only said, +"Well—good-night, Doc," and unobtrusively withdrew.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Triumphal Return of Charles Gardiner West from the Old World; +and of how the Other World had wagged in his Absence.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Many pictured post-cards and an occasional brief note reminded +Miss Weyland during the summer that Charles Gardiner West was +pursuing his studies in the Old World with peregrinative zest. By +the trail of colored photographs she followed his triumphal march. +Rome knew the president-elect in early June; Naples, Florence, +Milan, Venice in the same period. He investigated, presumably, the +public school systems of Geneva and Berlin; the higher education +drew him through the château country of France; for three +weeks the head-waiters of Paris (in the pedagogical district) were +familiar with the clink of his coin; and August's first youth was +gone before he was in London with the lake region a tramped road +behind him.</p> +<p>From the latter neighborhood (picture: Rydal Mount) he wrote +Sharlee as follows:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Sailing on the 21st, after the most glorious trip in history. +Never so full of energy and enthusiasm. Running over with the most +beautiful plans.</p> +</div> +<p>The exact nature of these plans the writer did not indicate, but +Sharlee's mother, who always got down to breakfast first and read +all the postals as they came, explained that the reference was +evidently to Blaines College. West, however, did not sail on the +21st, even though that date was some days behind his original +intentions. The itinerary with which he had set out had him home +again, in fact, on August 15. For in the stress and hurry of making +ready for the journey, together with a little preliminary rest +which he felt his health required, he had to let his advertising +campaign and other schemes for the good of the college go over +until the fall. But collegiate methods obtaining in London were too +fascinating, apparently, to be dismissed with any cursory glance. +He sailed on the 25th, arrived home on the 3rd of September, and on +the 4th surprised Sharlee by dropping in upon her in her +office.</p> +<p>He was browned from his passage, appeared a little stouter, was +very well dressed and good to look at, and fairly exuded vitality +and pleasant humor. Sharlee was delighted and quite excited over +seeing him again, though it may be noted, as shedding a side-light +upon her character, that she did not greet him with "Hello, +Stranger!" However, her manner of salutation appeared perfectly +satisfactory to West.</p> +<p>They had the little office to themselves and plenty to talk +about.</p> +<p>"Doubtless you got my postals?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, stacks of them. I spent all one Saturday afternoon pasting +them in an album as big as this table. They made a perfect fireside +grand tour for me. What did you like best in all your trip?"</p> +<p>"I think," said West, turning his handsome blue eyes full upon +her, "that I like getting back."</p> +<p>Sharlee laughed. "It's done you a world of good; that's plain, +anyway. You look ready to remove mountains."</p> +<p>"Why, I can eat them—bite their heads off! I feel like a +fighting-cock who's been starved a shade too long for the good of +the bystanders."</p> +<p>He laughed and waved his arms about to signify enormous +vitality. Sharlee asked if he had been able to make a start yet +with his new work.</p> +<p>"You might say," he replied, "that I dived head-first into it +from the steamer."</p> +<p>He launched out into eager talk about his hopes for Blaines +College. In all his wide circle of friends, he knew no one who made +so sympathetic and intelligent a listener as she. He talked freely, +lengthily, even egotistically it might have seemed, had they not +been such good friends and he so sure of her interest. +Difficulties, it seemed, had already cropped out. He was not sure +of the temper of his trustees, whom he had called together for an +informal meeting that morning. Starting to advertise the great +improvements that had taken place in the college, he had collided +with the simple fact that no improvements had taken place. Even if +he privately regarded his own accession in that light, he +humorously pointed out, he could hardly advertise it, with old Dr. +Gilfillan, the retired president, living around the corner and +reading the papers. Again, taking his pencil to make a list of the +special advantages Blaines had to offer, he was rather forcibly +struck with the fact that it had no special advantages. But upon +these and other difficulties, he touched optimistically, as though +confident that under the right treatment, namely his treatment, all +would soon yield.</p> +<p>Sharlee, fired by his gay confidence, mused enthusiastically. +"It's inspiring to think what can be done! Really, it is no empty +dream that the number of students might be +doubled—quadrupled—in five years."</p> +<p>"Do you know," said he, turning his glowing face upon her, "I'm +not so eager for mere numbers now. That is one point on which my +views have shifted during my studies this summer. My ideal is no +longer a very large college—at least not necessarily +large—but a college of the very highest standards. A +distinguished faculty of recognized authorities in their several +lines; an earnest student body, large if you can get them, but +always made of picked men admitted on the strictest terms; degrees +recognized all over the country as an unvarying badge of the +highest scholarship—these are what I shall strive for. My +ultimate ambition," said Charles Gardiner West, dreamily, "is to +make of Blaines College an institution like the University of +Paris."</p> +<p>He sprang up presently with great contrition, part real, part +mock, over having absorbed so much of the honest tax-payer's +property, the Departmental time. No, he could not be induced to +appropriate a moment more; he was going to run on up the street and +call on Colonel Cowles.</p> +<p>"How is the old gentleman, anyway?"</p> +<p>"His spirits," said Sharlee, "were never better, and he is +working like a horse. But I'm afraid the dear is beginning to feel +his years a little."</p> +<p>"He's nearly seventy, you know. By the bye, what ever became of +that young helper you and I unloaded on him last year—the +queer little man with the queer little name?"</p> +<p>Sharlee saw that President West had entirely forgotten their +conversation six months before, when he had promised to protect +this same young helper from Colonel Cowles and the <i>Post</i> +directors. She smiled indulgently at this evidence of the +absent-mindedness of the great.</p> +<p>"Became of him! Why, you're going to make him regular assistant +editor at your directors' meeting next month."</p> +<p>"Are we, though! I had it in the back of my head that he was +fired early in the summer."</p> +<p>"Well, you see, when he saw the axe descending, he pulled off a +little revolution all by himself and all of a sudden learned to +write. Make the Colonel tell you about it."</p> +<p>"I'm not surprised," said West. "I told you last winter, you +know, that I believed in that boy. Great heavens! It's glorious to +be back in this old town again!"</p> +<p>He went down the broad steps of the Capitol, and out the winding +white walkway through the park. Nearly everybody he met stopped him +with a friendly greeting and a welcome home. He walked the shady +path with his light stick swinging, his eyes seeing, not an arch of +tangible trees, but the shining vista which dreamers call the +Future.... He stood upon a platform, fronting a vast white meadow +of upturned faces. He was speaking to this meadow, his theme being +"Education and the Rise of the Masses," and the people, displaying +an enthusiasm rare at lectures upon such topics, roared their +approval as he shot at them great terse truths, the essence of wide +reading and profound wisdom put up in pellets of pungent epigram. +He rose at a long dinner-table, so placed that as he stood his eye +swept down rows upon rows of other long tables, where the diners +had all pushed back their chairs to turn and look at him. His words +were honeyed, of a magic compelling power, so that as he reached +his peroration, aged magnates could not be restrained from +producing fountain-pen and check-book; he saw them pushing aside +coffee-cups to indite rows of o's of staggering length. Blaines +College now tenanted a new home on a grassy knoll outside the city. +The single ramshackle barn which had housed the institution prior +to the coming of President West was replaced by a cluster of noble +edifices of classic marble. The president sat in his handsome +office, giving an audience to a delegation of world-famous +professors from the University of Paris. They had been dispatched +by the French nation to study his methods on the ground.</p> +<p>"Why, <i>hello</i>, Colonel! Bless your heart, I <i>am</i> glad +to see you, sir...."</p> +<p>Colonel Cowles, looking up from his ancient seat, gave an +exclamation of surprise and pleasure. He welcomed the young man +affectionately. West sat down, and once more pen-sketched his +travels and his plans for Blaines College. He was making a second, +or miniature, grand tour that afternoon, regreeting all his +friends, and was thus compelled to tell his story many times; but +his own interest in it appeared ever fresh. For Blaines he asked and +was promised the kindly offices of the Post.</p> +<p>The Colonel, in his turn, gave a brief account of his +vacationless summer, of his daily work, of the progress of the +<i>Post's</i> Policies.</p> +<p>"I hear," said West, "that that little scientist I made you a +present of last year has made a ten-strike."</p> +<p>"Queed? An extraordinary thing," said the Colonel, relighting +his cigar. "I was on the point of discharging him, you remember, +with the hearty approval of the directors. His stuff was dismal, +abysmal, and hopeless. One day he turned around and began handing +in stuff of a totally different kind. First-rate, some of it. I +thought at first that he must be hiring somebody to do it for him. +Did you see the paper while you were away?"</p> +<p>"Very irregularly, I'm sorry to say."</p> +<p>"Quite on his own hook, the boy turned up one day with an +article on the Centre Street 'mashers' that was a screamer. You +know what that situation was—"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes."</p> +<p>"I had for some time had it in mind to tackle it myself. The +fact was that we were developing a class of boy Don Juans that were +a black disgrace to the city. It was a rather unpleasant subject, +but this young man handled it with much tact, as well as with +surprising vigor and ability. His improvement seemed to date from +right there. I encouraged him to follow up his first effort, and he +wrote a strong series which attracted attention all through the +State, and has already brought about decided improvement."</p> +<p>"Splendid! You know," said West, "the first time I ever looked +at that boy, I was sure he had the stuff in him."</p> +<p>"Then you are a far keener observer than I. However, the nature +of the man seems to be undergoing some subtle change, a curious +kind of expansion—I don't remember anything like it in my +experience. A more indefatigable worker I never saw, and if he goes +on this way.... Well, God moves in a mysterious way. It's a delight +to see you again, Gardiner. Take supper with me at the club, won't +you? I feel lonely and grown old, as the poet says."</p> +<p>West accepted, and presently departed on his happy round. The +Colonel glanced at his watch; it was 3.30 o'clock, and he fell +industriously to work again. On the stroke of four, as usual, the +door of the adjoining office opened, and he heard his assistant +enter and seat himself at the new desk recently provided for him. +Another half-hour passed, and the Colonel, putting a double +cross-mark at the bottom of his paper—that being how you +write "Finis" on the press—raised his head.</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed."</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>The connecting door opened, and the young man walked in. His +chief eyed him thoughtfully.</p> +<p>"Young man, you have picked up a complexion like a professional +beauty's. What is your secret?"</p> +<p>"I daresay it is exercise. I have just walked out to Kern's +Castle and back."</p> +<p>"H'm. Five miles if it's a step."</p> +<p>"And a half. I do it—twice a week—in an hour and +seven minutes."</p> +<p>The Colonel thought of his own over-rubicund cheek and sighed. +"Well, whom or what do you wish to crucify to-morrow?"</p> +<p>"I am at your orders there."</p> +<p>"Have you examined Deputy Clerk Folsom's reply to Councilman +Hannigan's charge? What do you think of it?"</p> +<p>"I think it puts Hannigan in a very awkward position."</p> +<p>"I agree with you. Suppose you seek to show that to the city in +half a column."</p> +<p>Queed bowed. "I may, perhaps, remind you, Colonel, of the +meeting in New York to-morrow to prepare for the celebration of the +Darwin centennial. If you desired I should be glad to prepare, +apropos of this, a brief monograph telling in a light, popular way +what Darwin did for the world."</p> +<p>"And what did Darwin do for the world?"</p> +<p>The grave young man made a large grave gesture which indicated +the immensity of Darwin's doings for the world.</p> +<p>"Which topic do you prefer to handle—Folsom on Hannigan, +or what Darwin did for the world?"</p> +<p>"I think," said Queed, "that I should prefer to handle +both."</p> +<p>"Ten people will read Hannigan to one who reads Darwin."</p> +<p>"Don't you think that it is the <i>Post's</i> business to reduce +that proportion?"</p> +<p>"Take them both," said the Colonel presently. "But always +remember this: the great People are more interested in a cat-fight +at the corner of Seventh and Centre Streets than they are in the +greatest exploit of the greatest scientific theorist that ever +lived."</p> +<p>"I will remember what you say, Colonel."</p> +<p>"I want you," resumed Colonel Cowles, "to take supper with me at +the club. Not to-night—I'm engaged. Shall we say to-morrow +night, at seven?"</p> +<p>Queed accepted without perceptible hesitation. Some time had +passed since he became aware that the Colonel had somehow +insinuated himself into that list of friends which had halted so +long at Tim and Murphy Queed. Besides, he had a genuine, +unscientific desire to see what a real club looked like inside. So +far, his knowledge of clubs was absolutely confined to the Mercury +Athletic Association, B. Klinker, President.</p> +<p>The months of May, June, July, and August had risen and died +since Queed, threshing out great questions through the still +watches of the night, had resolved to give a modified scheme of +life a tentative and experimental trial. He had kept this +resolution, according to his wont. Probably his first liking for +Colonel Cowles dated back to the very beginning of this period. It +might be traced to the day when the precariously-placed assistant +had submitted his initial article on the thesis his friend Buck had +given him—the first article in all his life that the little +Doctor had ever dipped warm out of human life. This momentous +composition he had brought and laid upon the Colonel's desk, as +usual; but he did not follow his ancient custom by instantly +vanishing toward the Scriptorium. Instead he stuck fast in the +sanctum, not pretending to look at an encyclopedia or out of the +window as another man might have done, but standing rigid on the +other side of the table, gaze glued upon the perusing Colonel. +Presently the old editor looked up.</p> +<p>"Did you write this?"</p> +<p>"Yes. Why not?"</p> +<p>"It's about as much like your usual style as my style is like +Henry James's."</p> +<p>"You don't consider it a good editorial, then?"</p> +<p>"You have not necessarily drawn the correct inference from my +remark. I consider it an excellent editorial. In fact—I shall +make it my leader to-morrow morning. But that has nothing to do +with how you happen to be using a style exactly the reverse of your +own."</p> +<p>Queed had heaved a great sigh. The article occupied three pages +of copy-paper in a close handwriting, and represented sixteen +hours' work. Its author had rewritten it eleven times, incessantly +referring to his text-book, the files of the <i>Post</i>, and +subjecting each phrase to the most gruelling examination before +finally admitting it to the perfect structure. However, it seemed +no use to bore one's employer with details such as these.</p> +<p>"I have been doing a little studying of late—"</p> +<p>"Under excellent masters, it seems. Now this phrase, 'the +ultimate reproach and the final infamy"—the Colonel +unconsciously smacked his lips over it—"why, sir, it sounds +like one of my own."</p> +<p>Queed started.</p> +<p>"If you must know, it is one of your own. You used it on October +26, 1900, during, as you will recall, the closing days of the +presidential campaign."</p> +<p>The Colonel stared at him, bewildered.</p> +<p>"I decided to learn editorial-writing—as the term is +understood," Queed reluctantly explained. "Therefore, I have been +sitting up till two o'clock in the mornings, studying the files of +the <i>Post</i>, to see exactly how you did it."</p> +<p>The Colonel's gaze gradually softened. "You might have been +worse employed; I compliment and congratulate you," said he; and +then added: "Whether you have really caught the idea and mastered +the technique or not, it is too soon to say. But I'll say frankly +that this article is worth more to me than everything else that +you've written for the <i>Post</i> put together."</p> +<p>"I am—ahem—gratified that you are pleased with +it."</p> +<p>The Colonel, whose glance had gone out of the window, swung +around in his chair and smote the table a testy blow.</p> +<p>"For the Lord's sake," he exploded, "get some heat in you! +Squirt some color into your way of looking at things! Be kind and +good-natured in your heart—just as I am at this +moment—but for heaven's sake learn to write as if you were +mad, and only kept from yelling by phenomenal will-power."</p> +<p>This was in early May. Many other talks upon the art of +editorial writing did the two have, as the days went. The Colonel, +mystified but pleased by revelations of actuality and life in his +heretofore too-embalmed assistant, found an increasing interest in +developing him. Here was a youth, with the qualities of potential +great valuableness, and the wise editor, as soon as this appeared, +gave him his chance by calling him off the fields of taxation and +currency and assigning him to topics plucked alive from the day's +news.</p> +<p>On the fatal 15th of May, the Colonel told Queed merely that the +<i>Post</i> desired his work as long as it showed such promise as +it now showed. That was all the talk about the dismissal that ever +took place between them. The Colonel was no believer in fulsome +praise for the young. But to others he talked more freely, and this +was how it happened that the daughter of his old friend John +Randolph Weyland knew that Mr. Queed was slated for an early march +upstairs.</p> +<p>For Queed the summer had been a swift and immensely busy one. To +write editorials that have a relation with everyday life, it +gradually became clear to him that the writer must himself have +some such relation. In June the Mercury Athletic Association had +been thoroughly reorganized and rejuvenated, and regular meets were +held every Saturday night. At Trainer Klinker's command, Queed had +resolutely permitted himself to be inducted into the Mercury; +moreover, he made it a point of honor to attend the Saturday night +functions, where he had the ideal chance to match his physical +competence against that of other men. Early in the sessions at the +gymnasium, Buck had introduced his pupil to boxing-glove and +punching-bag, his own special passions, and now his orders ran that +the Doc should put on the gloves with any of the Mercuries that +were willing. Most of the Mercuries were willing, and on these +early Saturday nights, Stark's rocked with the falls of Dr. Queed. +But under Klinker's stern discipline, he was already acquiring +something like a form. By midsummer he had gained a small +reputation for scientific precision buttressed by invincible +inability to learn when he was licked, and autumn found many of the +Mercuries decidedly less Barkis-like than of old.</p> +<p>Queed lived now in the glow of perfect physical health, a very +different thing, as Fifi had once pointed out, from merely not +feeling sick. In the remarkable development that his body was +undergoing, he had found an unexpected pride. But the Mercury, +though he hardly realized it at the time, was useful to him in a +bigger way than bodily improvement.</p> +<p>Here he met young men who were most emphatically in touch with +life. They treated him as an equal with reference to his waxing +muscular efficiency, and with some respect as regards his +journalistic connection. "Want you to shake hands with the editor +of the <i>Post</i>," so kindly Buck would introduce him. After the +bouts or the "exhibition" of a Saturday, there was always a smoker, +and in the highly instructed and expert talk of his club-mates the +Doctor learned many things that were to be of value to him later +on. Some of the Mercuries, besides their picturesque general +knowledge, knew much more about city politics than ever got into +the papers. There was Jimmy Wattrous, for example, already rising +into fame as Plonny Neal's most promising lieutenant. Jimmy bared +his heart with the Mercuries, and was particularly friendly with +the representative of the great power which moulds public opinion. +Now and then, Neal himself looked in, Plonny, the great boss, who +was said to hold the city in the hollow of his hand. Many an +editorial that surprised and pleased Colonel Cowles was born in +that square room back of Stark's.</p> +<p>And all these things took time ... took time.... And there were +nights when Queed woke wide-eyed with cold sweat on his brow and +the cold fear in his heart that he and posterity were being +cheated, that he was making an irretrievable and ghastly +blunder.</p> +<p>Desperate months were May, June, and July for the little Doctor. +In all this time he never once put his own pencil to his own paper. +Manuscript and Schedule lay locked together in a drawer, toward +which he could never bear to glance. Thirteen hours a day he gave +to the science of editorial writing; two hours a day to the science +of physical culture; one hour a day (computed average) to the +science of Human Intercourse; but to the Science of Sciences never +an hour on never a day. The rest was food and sleep. Such was his +life for three months; a life that would have been too horrible to +contemplate, had it not been that in all of his new sciences he +uncovered a growing personal interest which kept him constantly +astonished at himself.</p> +<p>By the end of June he found it safe to give less and less time +to the study of editorial paradigms, for he had the technique at +his fingers' ends; and so he gave more and more time to the +amassment of material. For he had made a magnificent boast, and he +never had much idea of permitting it to turn out empty, for all his +nights of torturing misgivings. He read enormously with expert +facility and a beautifully trained memory; read history, biography, +memoirs, war records, old newspapers, old speeches, councilmanic +proceedings, departmental reports—everything he could lay his +hands on that promised capital for an editorial writer in that city +and that State. By the end of July he felt that he could slacken up +here, too, having pretty well exhausted the field, and the first +day of August—red-letter day in the annals of +science—saw him unlock the sacred drawer with a close-set +face. And now the Schedule, so long lapsed, was reinstated, with +Four Hours a Day segregated to Magnum Opus. A pitiful little step +at reconstruction, perhaps, but still a step. And henceforth every +evening, between 9.30 and 1.30, Dr. Queed sat alone in his +Scriptorium and embraced his love.</p> +<p>Insensibly summer faded into autumn, and still the science of +Human Intercourse was faithfully practiced. The Paynter parlor knew +Queed not infrequently in these days, where he could sometimes be +discovered not merely suffering, but encouraging, Major Brooke to +talk to him of his victories over the Republicans in 1870-75. Nor +was he a stranger to Nicolovius's sitting-room, having made it an +iron-clad rule with himself to accept one out of every two +invitations to that charming cloister. After all, there might be +something to learn from both the Major's fiery reminiscences and +the old professor's cultured talk. He himself, he found, tended +naturally toward silence. Listeners appeared to be needed in a +world where the supply of talkers exceeded the demand. The telling +of humorous anecdote he had definitely excided from his creed. It +did not appear needed of him; and he was sure that the author of +his creed would himself have authorized him to drop it. He never +missed Fifi now, according to the way of this world, but he thought +of her sometimes, which is all that anybody has a right to expect. +Miss Weyland he had not seen since the day Fifi died. Mrs. Paynter +had been away all summer, a firm spinster cousin coming in from the +country to run the boarders, and the landlady's agent came to the +house no more. Buck Klinket he saw incessantly; he was the first +person in the world, probably, that the little Doctor had ever +really liked. It was Buck who suggested to his pupil, in October, a +particularly novel experience for his soul's unfolding, which +Queed, though failing to adopt it, sometimes dandled before his +mind's eye with a kind of horrified fascination, viz: the taking of +Miss Miller to the picture shows.</p> +<p>But the bulk of his time this autumn was still going to his work +on the <i>Post</i>. With ever fresh wonderment, he faced the fact +that this work, first taken up solely to finance the Scriptorium, +and next enlarged to satisfy a most irrational instinct, was +growing slowly but surely upon his personal interest. Certainly the +application of a new science to a new set of practical conditions +was stimulating to his intellect; the panorama of problems whipped +out daily by the telegraph had a warmth and immediateness wanting +to the abstractions of closet philosophy. Queed's articles lacked +the Colonel's expert fluency, his loose but telling vividness, his +faculty for broad satire which occasionally set the whole city +laughing. On the other hand, they displayed an exact knowledge of +fact, a breadth of study and outlook, and a habit of plumbing +bottom on any and all subjects which critical minds found wanting +in the Colonel's delightful discourses. And nowadays the young +man's articles were constantly reaching a higher and higher level +of readability. Not infrequently they attracted public comment, not +only, indeed not oftenest, inside the State. Queed knew what it was +to be quoted in that identical New York newspaper from whose pages, +so popular for wrapping around pork chops, he had first picked out +his letters.</p> +<p>Of these things the honorable <i>Post</i> directors were not +unmindful. They met on October 10, and upon Colonel Cowles's +cordial recommendation, named Mr. Queed assistant editor of the +<i>Post</i> at a salary of fifteen hundred dollars per annum. And +Mr. Queed accepted the appointment without a moment's +hesitation.</p> +<p>So far, then, the magnificent boast had been made good. The +event fell on a Saturday. The Sunday was sunny, windy, and crisp. +Free for the day and regardful of the advantages of open-air +pedestrianism, the new assistant editor put on his hat from the +dinner-table and struck for the open country. He rambled far, over +trails strange to him, and came up short, about 4.30 in the +afternoon, in a grove of immemorial pines which he instantly +remembered to have seen before.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>A Remeeting in a Cemetery: the Unglassed Queed who loafed on +Rustic Bridges; of the Consequences of failing to tell a Lady that +you hope to see her again soon.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Fifi's grave had long since lost its first terrible look of bare +newness. Grass grew upon it in familiar ways. Rose-bushes that +might have stood a lifetime nodded over it by night and by day. +Already "the minute grey lichens, plate o'er plate," were +"softening down the crisp-cut name and date"; and the winds of +winter and of summer blew over a little mound that had made itself +at home in the still city of the dead.</p> +<p>Green was the turf above Fifi, sweet the peacefulness of her +little churchyard. Her cousin Sharlee, who had loved her well, +disposed her flowers tenderly, and stood awhile in reverie of the +sort which the surroundings so irresistibly invited. But the +schedules of even electric car-lines are inexorable; and presently +she saw from a glance at her watch that she must turn her face back +to the city of the living.</p> +<p>On the little rustic bridge a hundred yards away, a man was +standing, with rather the look of having stopped at just that +minute. From a distance Sharlee's glance swept him lightly; she saw +that she did not know him; and not fancying his frank stare, she +drew near and stepped upon the bridge with a splendid +unconsciousness of his presence. But just when she was safely by, +her ears were astonished by his voice speaking her name.</p> +<p>"How do you do, Miss Weyland?"</p> +<p>She turned, surprised by a familiar note in the deep tones, +looked, and—yes, there could be no doubt of it—it +was—</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed! Why, <i>how</i> do you do!"</p> +<p>They shook hands. He removed his hat for the process, doing it +with a certain painstaking precision which betrayed want of +familiarity with the engaging rite.</p> +<p>"I haven't seen you for a long time," said Sharlee brightly.</p> +<p>The dear, old remark—the moss-covered remark that hung in +the well! How on earth could we live without it? In behalf of +Sharlee, however, some excuses can be urged; for, remembering the +way she had talked to Mr. Queed once on the general subject of +failures, she found herself struggling against a most absurd sense +of embarrassment.</p> +<p>"No," replied Queed, replacing his hat as though following from +memory the diagram in a book of etiquette. He added, borrowing one +of the Colonel's favorite expressions, "I hope you are very +well."</p> +<p>"Yes, indeed.... I'm so glad you spoke to me, for to tell you +the truth, I never, never should have known you if you hadn't."</p> +<p>"You think that I've changed? Well," said he, gravely, "I ought +to have. You might say that I've given five months to it."</p> +<p>"You've changed enormously."</p> +<p>She examined with interest this new Mr. Queed who loafed on +rustic bridges, five miles from a Sociology, and halled passing +ladies on his own motion. He appeared, indeed, decidedly +altered.</p> +<p>In the first place, he looked decidedly bigger, and, to come at +once to the fact, he was. For Klinker's marvelous exercises for all +parts of the body had done more than add nineteen pounds to his +weight, and deepen his chest, and broaden his shoulders. They had +pulled and tugged at the undeveloped tissues until they had +actually added a hard-won three-quarters of an inch to his height. +The stoop was gone, and instead of appearing rather a small man, +Mr. Queed now looked full middle-height or above. He wore a +well-made suit of dark blue, topped by a correct derby. His hair +was cut trim, his color was excellent, and, last miracle of all, he +wore no spectacles. It was astonishing but true. The beautiful +absence of these round disfigurements brought into new prominence a +pair of grayish eyes which did not look so very professorial, after +all.</p> +<p>But what Sharlee liked best about this unglassed and unscienced +Mr. Queed was his entire absence of any self-consciousness in +regard to her. When he told her that Easter Monday night that he +cheerfully took his turn on the psychological operating-table, +anæsthetics barred, and no mercy asked or given, it appeared +that he, alone among men, really meant it.</p> +<p>Under the tiny bridge, a correspondingly tiny brook purled +without surcease, its heart set upon somewhere finding the sea. +Over their heads a glorious maple was taking off its coat of many +colors in the wind. Sharlee put back a small hand into a large muff +and said:—</p> +<p>"At church this morning I saw Colonel Cowles. He told me about +you. I don't know how you look at it, but I think you're a subject +for the heartiest congratulations. So here are mine."</p> +<p>"The men at the Mercury were pleased, too," mused Mr. Queed, +looking out over the landscape. "Do you ever read my articles +now?"</p> +<p>"For many years," said Sharlee, evasively, "I have always read +the <i>Post</i> from cover to cover. It's been to me like those +books you see in the advertisements and nowhere else. Grips the +reader from the start, and she cannot lay it down till the last +page is turned."</p> +<p>A brief smile appeared in the undisguised eyes. "Do you notice +any distinctions now between me and the Encyclopedia +Britannica?"</p> +<p>"Unless you happen to refer to Lombroso or Buckle or Aristotle +or Plato," said Sharlee, not noticing the smile, "I never know +whether it's your article or Colonel Cowles's. Do you mind walking +on? It's nearly time for my car."</p> +<p>"A year ago," said he, "I certainly should not have liked that. +I do now, since it means that I have succeeded in what I set out to +do. I've thought a good deal about that tired bricklayer this +summer," he went on, quite unembarrassed. "By the way, I know one +personally now: Timrod Burns, of the Mercury. Only I can't say that +I ever saw Timmy tired."</p> +<p>Down the woodland path they passed side by side, headed for the +little station known as Stop 11. Sharlee was pleased that he had +remembered about the bricklayer; she could have been persuaded that +his remark was vaguely intended to convey some sort of thanks to +her. But saying no more of this, she made it possible to introduce +casually a reference to his vanished glasses.</p> +<p>"Yes," said he, "I knocked them off the bureau and broke them +one day. So I just let them go. They were rather striking-looking +glasses, I always thought. I don't believe I ever saw another pair +quite like them."</p> +<p>"But," said Sharlee, puzzled, "do you find that you can see +perfectly well without them?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes; if anything, better." He paused, and added with entire +seriousness: "You see those spectacles, striking-looking as they +were, were only window-glass. I bought them at a ten-cent store on +Sixth Avenue when I was twelve years old."</p> +<p>"Oh! What made you do that?"</p> +<p>"All the regulars at the Astor Library wore them. At the time it +seemed to be the thing to do, and of course they soon became second +nature to me. But I daresay no one ever had a sounder pair of eyes +than I."</p> +<p>To Sharlee this seemed one of the most pathetic of all his +confidences; she offered no comment.</p> +<p>"You were in the churchyard," stated Mr. Queed. "I was there +just ahead of you. I was struck with that motto or text on the +headstone, and shall look it up when I get home. I have been making +a more careful study of your Bible this autumn and have found it +exceptionally interesting. You, I suppose, subscribe to all the +tenets of the Christian faith?"</p> +<p>Sharlee hesitated. "I'm not sure that I can answer that with a +direct yes, and I <i>will</i> not answer it with any sort of no. So +I'll say that I believe in them all, modified a little in places to +satisfy my reason."</p> +<p>"Ah, they are subject to modification, then?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. Aren't you? Am not I? Whatever is alive is subject +to modification. These doctrines," said she, "are evolving because +they have the principle of life in them."</p> +<p>"So you are an evolutionist?"</p> +<p>"The expert in evolutionary sociology will hardly quarrel with +me for that."</p> +<p>"The expert in evolutionary sociology deals with social +organisms, nations, the human race. Your Bible deals with Smith, +Brown, and Jones."</p> +<p>"Well, what are your organisms and nations but collections of my +Smiths, Browns, and Joneses? My Bible deals with individuals +because there is nothing else to deal with. The individual +conscience is the beginning of everything."</p> +<p>"Ah! So you would found your evolution of humanity upon the +increasing operation of what you call conscience?"</p> +<p>"Probably I would not give <i>all</i> the credit to what I call +conscience. Probably I'd give some of it to what I call +intellect."</p> +<p>"In that case you would almost certainly fall into a fatal +error."</p> +<p>"Why, don't you consider that the higher the intellectual +development the higher the type?"</p> +<p>"Suppose we go more slowly," said Mr. Queed, intently plucking a +dead bough from an overhanging young oak.</p> +<p>"How do you go about measuring a type? When you speak of a high +type, exactly what do you mean?"</p> +<p>"When I speak of a high type," said Sharlee, who really did not +know exactly what she meant, "I will merely say that I mean a type +that is high—lofty, you know—towering over other +types."</p> +<p>She flaunted a gloved hand to suggest infinite altitude.</p> +<p>"You ought to mean," he said patiently, "a type which most +successfully sketches the civilization of the future, a type best +fitted to dominate and survive. Now you have only to glance at +history to see that intellectual supremacy is no guarantee whatever +of such a type."</p> +<p>"Oh, Mr. Queed, I don't know about that."</p> +<p>"Then I will convince you," said he. "Look at the +French—the most brilliant nation intellectually among all the +European peoples. Where are they in the race to-day? The +evolutionist sees in them familiar symptoms of a retrogression +which rarely ends but in one way. Look at the Greeks. Every +schoolboy knows that the Greeks were vastly the intellectual +superiors of any dominant people of to-day. An anthropologist of +standing assures us that the intellectual interval separating the +Greek of the Periclean age from the modern Anglo-Saxon is as great +as the interval between the Anglo-Saxon and the African savage. +Point to a man alive to-day who is the intellectual peer of +Aristotle, Plato, or Socrates. Yet where are the Greeks? What did +their exalted intellectual equipment do to save them in the +desperate struggle for the survival of the fittest? The Greeks of +to-day are selling fruit at corner stands; Plato's descendants +shine the world's shoes. They live to warn away the most casual +evolutionist from the theory that intellectual supremacy +necessarily means supremacy of type. Where, then, you may ask, does +lie the principle of triumphant evolution? Here we stand at the +innermost heart of every social scheme. Let us glance a moment," +said Mr. Queed, "at Man, as we see him first emerging from the dark +hinterlands of history."</p> +<p>So, walking through the sweet autumn woods with the one girl he +knew in all the world—barring only Miss Miller—Queed +spoke heartily of the rise and fall of peoples and the destiny of +man. Thus conversing, they came out of the woods and stood upon the +platform of the rudimentary station.</p> +<p>The line ran here on an elevation, disappearing in the curve of +a heavy cut two hundred yards further north. In front the ground +fell sharply and rolled out in a vast green meadow, almost treeless +and level as a mill-pond. Far off on the horizon rose the blue haze +of a range of foothills, upon which the falling sun momentarily +stood, like a gold-piece edge-up on a table. Nearer, to their +right, was a strip of uncleared woods, a rainbow of reds and pinks. +Through the meadow ran a little stream, such as a boy of ten could +leap; for the instant it stood fire-red under the sun.</p> +<p>Sharlee, obtaining the floor for a moment, asked Queed how his +own work had been going. He told her that in one sense it had not +been going at all: not a chapter written from May to September.</p> +<p>"However," he said, with an unclouded face, "I am now giving six +hours a day to it. And it is just as well to go slow. The smallest +error of angle at the centre means a tremendous going astray at the +circumference. I—ahem—do not feel that my summer has +been wasted, by any means. You follow me? It is worth some delay to +be doubly sure that I put down no plus signs as minuses."</p> +<p>"Yes, of course. How beautiful that is out there, isn't it?"</p> +<p>His eyes followed hers over the sunset spaces. "No, it is too +quiet, too monotonous. If there must be scenery, let it have some +originality and character. You yourself are very beautiful, I +think."</p> +<p>Sharlee started, almost violently, and colored perceptibly. If a +text-book in differential calculus, upon the turning of a page, had +thrown problems to the winds and begun gibbering purple poems of +passion, she could not have been more completely taken aback. +However, there was no mistaking the utter and veracious +impersonality of his tone.</p> +<p>"Oh, do you think so? I'm very glad, because I'm afraid not many +people do...."</p> +<p>Mr. Queed remained silent. So far, so good; the conversation +stood in a position eminently and scientifically correct; but +Sharlee could not for the life of her forbear to add: "But I had no +idea you ever noticed people's looks."</p> +<p>"So far as I remember, I never did before. I think it was the +appearance of your eyes as you looked out over the plain that +attracted my attention. Then, looking closer, I noticed that you +are beautiful."</p> +<p>The compliment was so unique and perfect that another touch +could only spoil it. Sharlee immediately changed the subject.</p> +<p>"Oh, Mr. Queed, has the Department you or Colonel Cowles to +thank for the editorial about the reformatory this morning?"</p> +<p>"Both of us. He suggested it and I wrote it. So you really +cannot tell us apart?"</p> +<p>She shook her head. "All this winter we shall work preparing the +State's mind for this institution, convincing it so thoroughly that +when the legislature meets again, it simply will not dare to refuse +us. When I mention we and us, understand that I am speaking to you +Departmentally. After that there are ten thousand other things that +we want to do. But everything is so immortally slow! We are not +allowed to raise our fingers without a hundred years' war first. +Don't you ever wish for money—oceans and oceans of lovely +money?"</p> +<p>"Good heavens, no!"</p> +<p>"I do. I'd pepper this State with institutions. Did you know," +she said sweetly, "that I once had quite a little pot of money? +When I was one month old."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Queed, "I knew. In fact, I had not been here a week +before I heard of Henry G. Surface. Major Brooke speaks of him +constantly, Colonel Cowles occasionally. Do you," he asked, "care +much about that?"</p> +<p>"Well," said Sharlee, gently, "I'm glad my father never +knew."</p> +<p>From half a mile away, behind the bellying woodland, a faint +hoot served notice that the city-bound car was sweeping rapidly +toward them. It was on the tip of Queed's tongue to remind Miss +Weyland that, in the case of Fifi, she had taken the ground that +the dead did know what was going on upon earth. But he did not do +so. The proud way in which she spoke of <i>my father</i> threw +another thought uppermost in his mind.</p> +<p>"Miss Weyland," he said abruptly, "I made a—confidence to +you, of a personal nature, the first time I ever talked with you. I +did not, it is true, ask you to regard it as a confidence, +but—"</p> +<p>"I know," interrupted Sharlee, hurriedly. "But of course I +<i>have</i> regarded it in that way, and have never spoken of it to +anybody."</p> +<p>"Thank you. That was what I wished to say."</p> +<p>If Sharlee had wanted to measure now the difference that she saw +in Mr. Queed, she could have done it by the shyness that they both +felt in approaching a topic they had once handled with the easiest +simplicity. She was glad of his sensitiveness; it became him better +than his early callousness. Sharlee wore a suit of black-and-gray +pin-checks, and it was very excellently tailored; for if she +purchased but two suits a year, she invariably paid money to have +them made by one who knew how. Her hat was of the kind that other +girls study with cool diligence, while feigning engrossment in the +conversation; and, repairing to their milliners, give orders for +accurate copies of it. From it floated a silky-looking veil of +gray-white, which gave her face that airy, cloud-like setting that +photographers of the baser sort so passionately admire. The place +was as windy as Troy; from far on the ringing plains the breeze +raced and fell upon this veil, ceaselessly kicking it here and +there, in a way that would have driven a strong man lunatic in +seven minutes. Sharlee, though a slim girl and no stronger than +another, remained entirely unconscious of the behavior of the veil; +long familiarity had bred contempt for its boisterous play; and, +with her eyes a thousand miles away, she was wishing with her whole +heart that she dared ask Mr. Queed a question.</p> +<p>Whereupon, like her marionette that she worked by a string, he +opened his mouth and gravely answered her.</p> +<p>"I have three theories about my father. One is that he is an +eccentric psychologist with peculiar, not to say extraordinary, +ideas about the bringing up of children. Another is that because of +his own convenience or circumstances, he does not care to own me as +I am now. The third is that because of my convenience or +circumstances, he thinks that I may not care to own him as he is +now. I have never heard of or from him since the letter I showed +you, nearly nine months ago. I rather incline to the opinion," he +said, "that my father is dead."</p> +<p>"If he isn't," said Sharlee, gently, as the great car whizzed up +and stopped with a jerk, "I am very sure that you are to find him +some day. If he hadn't meant that, he would never have asked you to +come all the way from New York to settle here—do you think +so?"</p> +<p>"Do you know," said Mr. Queed—so absorbedly as to leave +her to clamber up the car steps without assistance—"if I +subscribed to the tenets of your religion, I might believe that my +father was merely a mythical instrument of Providence—a +tradition created out of air <i>just to bring me down +here</i>."</p> +<p>"Why," said Sharlee, looking down from the tall platform, as the +car whizzed and buzzed and slowly started, "aren't you +<i>coming</i>?"</p> +<p>"No, I'm walking," said Mr. Queed, and remembered at the last +moment to pluck off his glistening new derby.</p> +<p>Thus they parted, almost precipitately, and, for all of him, +might never have met again in this world. Half a mile up the road, +it came to the young man that their farewell had lacked that final +word of ceremony to which he now aspired. To those who called at +his office, to the men he met at the sign of the Mercury, even to +Nicolovius when he betook himself from the lamp-lit sitting-room, +it was his carefully attained habit to say: "I hope to see you +again soon." He meant the hope, with these, only in the most +general and perfunctory sense. Why, then, had he omitted this civil +tag and postscript in his parting with Miss Weyland, to whom he +could have said it—yes, certainly—with more than usual +sincerity? Certainly; he really did hope to see her again soon. For +she was an intelligent, sensible girl, and knew more about him than +anybody in the world except Tim Queed.</p> +<p>Gradually it was borne in upon him that the reason he had failed +to tell Miss Weyland that he hoped to see her again soon was +exactly the fact that he did hope to see her again soon. Off his +guard for this reason, he had fallen into a serious lapse. Looking +with untrained eyes into the future, he saw no way in which a man +who had failed to tell a lady that he hoped to see her again soon +was ever to retrieve his error. It was good-by, Charles Weyland, +for sure.</p> +<p>However, Miss Weyland herself resolved all these perplexities by +appearing at Mrs. Paynter's supper-table before the month was out; +and this exploit she repeated at least once, and maybe twice, +during the swift winter that followed.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>On January 14, or February 23, or it might have been March 2, +Queed unexpectedly reentered the dining-room, toward eight o'clock, +with the grave announcement that he had a piece of news. Sharlee +was alone in the room, concluding the post-prandial chores with the +laying of the Turkey-red cloth. She was in fickle vein this +evening, as it chanced; and instead of respectfully inquiring the +nature of his tidings, as was naturally and properly expected of +her, she received the young man with a fire of breezy +inconsequentialities which puzzled and annoyed him greatly.</p> +<p>She admitted, without pressure, that she had been hoping for his +return; had in fact been dawdling over the duties of the +dining-room on that very expectation. From there her fancy grew. +Audaciously she urged his reluctant attention to the number of her +comings to Mrs. Paynter's in recent months. With an exceedingly +stagey counterfeit of a downcast eye, she hinted at gossip lately +arising from public observation of these visits: gossip, namely, to +the effect that Miss Weyland's ostensible suppings with her aunt +were neither better nor worse than so many bold calls upon Mr. +Queed. Her lip quivered alarmingly over such a confession; +undoubtedly she looked enormously abashed.</p> +<p>Mr. Queed, for his part, looked highly displeased and more than +a shade uncomfortable. He annihilated all such foolishness by a +look and a phrase; observed, in a stately opening, that she would +hardly trouble to deny empty rumor of this sort, since—</p> +<p>"I can't deny it, you see! Because," she interrupted, raising +her eyes and turning upon him a sudden dazzling yet outrageous +smile—"<i>it's true</i>."</p> +<p>She skipped away, smiling to herself, happily putting things +away and humming an air. Queed watched her in annoyed silence. His +adamantine gravity inspired her with an irresistible impulse to +levity; so the law of averages claimed its innings.</p> +<p>"While you are thinking up what to say," she rattled on, "might +I ask your advice on a sociological problem that was just laid +before me by Laura?"</p> +<p>"Well," he said impatiently, "who is Laura?"</p> +<p>"Laura is the loyal negress who cooks the food for Mrs. +Paynter's bright young men. Her husband first deserted her, next +had the misfortune to get caught while burgling, and is at present +doing time, as the saying is. Now a young bright-skin negro desires +to marry Laura, and speaks in urgent tones of the divorce court. +Her attitude is more than willing, but she learns that a divorce, +at the lowest conceivable price, will cost fifteen dollars, and she +had rather put the money in a suit and bonnet. But a thought no +larger than a man's hand has crossed her mind, and she said to me +just now: 'I 'clare, Miss Sharly, it do look like, when you got a +beau and he want to marry you, and all the time axin' and coaxin' +an' beggin' you to get a div-o'ce, it do look like <i>he</i> ought +to pay for the div-o'ce.' Now what answer has your old science to +give to a real heart problem such as that?"</p> +<p>"May I ask that you will put the napkins away, or at the least +remain stationary? It is impossible for me to talk with you while +you flutter about in this way."</p> +<p>At last she came and sat down meekly at the table, her hands +clasped before her in rather a devotional attitude, while he, +standing, fixed her with his unwavering gaze.</p> +<p>"I speak to you," he began, uncompromisingly, "as to Mrs. +Paynter's agent. Professor Nicolovius is going to move in the +spring and take an apartment or small house. He has invited me to +share such apartment or house with him."</p> +<p>"What! But you declined?"</p> +<p>"On the contrary, I accepted at once."</p> +<p>Mrs. Paynter's agent was much surprised and interested by this +news, and said so. "But how in the world," she went on, puzzled, +"did you make him like you so? I always supposed that he hated +everybody—he does me, I know."</p> +<p>"I believe he does hate everybody but me."</p> +<p>"Strange—extraordinary!" said Sharlee, picturing the two +scholars alone together in their flat, endeavoring to soft-boil +eggs on one of those little fixtures over the gas.</p> +<p>"I can see nothing in the least extraordinary in the refusal of +a cultured gentleman to hate me."</p> +<p>"I don't mean it that way at all—not at all! But Professor +Nicolovius must know cultured gentlemen, congenial roomers, who are +nearer his own age—"</p> +<p>"Oh, not necessarily," said Queed, and sat down in the chair by +her, Major Brooke's chair. "He is a most unsocial sort of +man,"—this from the little Doctor!—"and I doubt if he +knows anybody better than he knows me. That he knows me so well is +due solely to the fact that we have been forced on each other three +times a day for over a year. For the first month or so after I came +here, we remained entire strangers, I remember, and passed each +other on the stairs without speaking. Gradually, however, he has +come to take a great fancy to me."</p> +<p>"And is that why you are going off to a honeymoon cottage with +him?"</p> +<p>"Hardly. I am going because it will be the best sort of +arrangement for me."</p> +<p>"Oh!"</p> +<p>"I will pay, you see," said Queed, "no more than I am paying +here; for that matter, I have no doubt that I could beat him down +to five dollars a week, if I cared to do so. In return I shall have +decidedly greater comforts and conveniences, far greater quiet and +independence, and complete freedom from interruptions and +intrusions. The arrangement will be a big gain in several ways for +me."</p> +<p>"And have you taken a great fancy to Professor Nicolovius, +too?"</p> +<p>"Oh, no!—not at all. But that has very little to do with +it. At least he has the great gift of silence."</p> +<p>Sharlee looked at his absorbed face closely. She thought that +his head in profile was very fine, though certainly his nose was +too prominent for beauty. But what she was wondering was whether +the little Doctor had really changed so much after all.</p> +<p>"Well," said she, slowly, "I'm sorry you're going."</p> +<p>"Sorry—why? It would appear to me that under the tenets of +your religion you ought to be glad. You ought to compliment me for +going."</p> +<p>"I don't find anything in the tenets of my religion that +requires you to go off and room-keep with Professor +Nicolovius."</p> +<p>"You do not? It is a tremendous kindness to him, I assure you. +To have a place of his own has long been his dream, he tells me; +but he cannot afford it without the financial assistance I would +give. Again, even if he could finance it, he would not venture to +try it alone, because of his health. It appears that he is subject +to some kind of attacks—heart, I suppose—and does not +want to be alone. I have heard him walking his floor at 3 o'clock +in the morning. Do you know anything about his life?"</p> +<p>"No. Nothing."</p> +<p>"I know everything."</p> +<p>He paused for her to ask him questions, that he might have the +pleasure of refusing her. But instead of prying, Sharlee said: +"Still I'm sorry that you are going."</p> +<p>"Well? Why?"</p> +<p>"Because," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>"Proceed."</p> +<p>"Because I don't like his eyes."</p> +<p>"The question, from your point of view," said Mr. Queed, "is a +moral—not an optic one. These acts which confer benefits on +others," he continued, "so peculiarly commended by your religion, +are conceived by it to work moral good to the doer. The <i>eyes</i> +(which you use synecdochically to represent the <i>character</i>) +of the person to whom they are done, have nothing—"</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed," said Sharlee, briskly interrupting his exegetical +words, "I believe you are going off with Professor Nicolovius +chiefly because—you think he needs you!"</p> +<p>He looked up sharply, much surprised and irritated. "That is +absolutely foolish and absurd. I have nothing in the world to do +with what Professor Nicolovius needs. You must always remember that +I am not a subscriber to the tenets of your religion."</p> +<p>"It is not too late. I always remember that too."</p> +<p>"But I must say frankly that I am much surprised at the way you +interpret those tenets. For if—"</p> +<p>"Oh, you should never have tested me on such a question! Don't +you see that I'm the judge sitting in his or her own case? Two +boarders gone at one swoop! How shall I break the news to Aunt +Jennie?"</p> +<p>He thought this over in silence and then said impatiently; "I'm +sorry, but I do not feel that I can consider that phase of the +matter."</p> +<p>"Certainly not."</p> +<p>"The arrangement between us is a strictly business one, based on +mutual advantage, and to be terminated at will as the interests of +either party dictates."</p> +<p>"Exactly."</p> +<p>He turned a sharp glance on her, and rose. Having risen he stood +a moment, irresolute, frowning, troubled by a thought. Then he +said, in an annoyed, nervous voice:—</p> +<p>"Look here, will it be a serious thing for your aunt to lose +me?"</p> +<p>The agent burst out laughing. He was surprised by her merriment; +he could not guess that it covered her instantaneous discovery that +she liked him more than she would ever have thought possible.</p> +<p>"While I'm on the other side—remember that," said she, +"I'm obliged to tell you that we can let the rooms any day at an +hour's notice. Not that the places of our two scholars can ever be +filled, but the boarding-house business is booming these days. We +are turning them away. Do you remember the night that you walked in +here an hour late for supper, and I arose and collected twenty +dollars from you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes.... By the way—I have never asked—whatever +became of that extraordinary pleasure-dog of yours?"</p> +<p>"Thank you. He is bigger and more pleasurable than ever. I take +him out every afternoon, and each day, just as the clock strikes +five, he knocks over a strange young man for me. It is delightful +sport. But he has never found any young man that he enjoyed as +heartily as he did you."</p> +<p>Gravely he moved toward the door. "I must return to my work. You +will tell your aunt I have given notice? +Well—good-evening."</p> +<p>"<i>Good</i>-evening, Mr. Queed."</p> +<p>The door half shut upon him, but opened again to admit his head +and shoulders.</p> +<p>"By the way, there was a curious happening yesterday which might +be of interest to you. Did you see it in the <i>Post</i>—a +small item headed 'The Two Queeds'?"</p> +<p>"Oh—no! About you and Tim?"</p> +<p>"About Tim, but not about me. His beat was changed the other +day, it seems, and early yesterday morning a bank in his new +district was broken into. Tim went in and arrested the burglar +after a desperate fight in the dark. When other policemen came and +turned on the lights, Tim discovered to his horror that he had +captured his brother Murphy."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Of President West of Old Blaines College, his Trustees and +his Troubles; his Firmness in the Brown-Jones Hazing Incident so +misconstrued by Malicious Asses; his Article for the Post, and why +it was never printed: all ending in West's Profound Dissatisfaction +with the Rewards of Patriotism.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The way of Blaines College was not wholly smooth that winter, +and annoyances rose to fret the fine edge of President West's +virgin enthusiasms. The opening had been somewhat disappointing. +True, there were more students than last year, the exact increment +being nine. But West had hoped for an increase of fifty, and had +communicated his expectations to the trustees, who were +correspondingly let down when the actual figures—total +enrolment, 167—were produced at the October meeting. The +young president explained about the exasperating delays in getting +out his advertising literature, but the trustees rather hemmed over +the bills and said that that was a lot of money. And one of them +bluntly called attention to the fact that the President had not +assumed his duties till well along in September.</p> +<p>West, with charming humility and good humor, asked indulgence +for his inexperience. His mistake, he said, in giving an excess of +time to the study of the great collegiate systems of the old world, +if it was a mistake, was one that could hardly be repeated. Next +year ...</p> +<p>"Meantime," said the blunt trustee, "you've got a ten per cent +increase in expenditures and but nine more stoodents."</p> +<p>"Let us not wholly forget," said West, with his disarming smile, +"my hope to add substantially to the endowment."</p> +<p>But he marked this trustee as one likely to give trouble in the +future, and hence to be handled with care. He was a forthright, +upstanding, lantern-jawed man of the people, by the name of James +E. Winter. A contractor by profession and a former member of the +city council, he represented the city on the board of trustees. For +the city appropriated seventy-five hundred dollars a year, for the +use of the college, and in return for this munificence, reserved +the right to name three members of the board.</p> +<p>Nor was Mr. Winter the only man of his kidney on that +directorate. From his great friend among the trustees, Mr. Fyne, +donator of the fifty thousand dollar endowment on which Blaines +College partly subsisted, West learned that his election to the +presidency had failed of being unanimous. In fact, the vote had +stood seven to five, and the meeting at which he was chosen had at +times approached violence. Of the five, two had voted against West +because they thought that old Dr. Gilfillan's resignation did not +have that purely spontaneous character so desirable under the +circumstances; two because they did not think that West had the +qualifications, or would have the right point of view, for a +people's college; and one for all these reasons, or for any other +reason, which is to say for personal reasons. This one, said Mr. +Fyne, was James E. Winter.</p> +<p>"I know," said West. "He's never got over the poundings we used +to give him in the <i>Post</i> when he trained with those grafters +on the Council. He'd put poison in my tea on half a chance."</p> +<p>Unhappily, the sharp cleft made in the board at the time of the +election survived and deepened. The trustees developed a way of +dividing seven to five on almost all of West's recommendations +which was anything but encouraging. An obstinate, but human, pride +of opinion tended to keep the two factions facing each other +intact, and matters very tiny in themselves served, as the weeks +went by, to aggravate this feeling. Once, at least, before +Christmas, it required all of West's tact and good-humor to restore +the appearance of harmony to a meeting which was fast growing +excited.</p> +<p>But the young president would not allow himself to become +discouraged. He earnestly intended to show James E. Winter which of +the two knew most about running a modern institution of the higher +learning. Only the perfectest bloom of his ardor faded under the +constant handling of rough fingers. The interval separating Blaines +College and the University of Paris began to loom larger than it +had seemed in the halcyon summer-time, and the classic group of +noble piles receded further and further into the prophetic haze. +But West's fine energy and optimism remained. And he continued to +see in the college, unpromising though the outlook was in some +respects, a real instrument for the uplift.</p> +<p>The president sat up late on those evenings when social +diversions did not claim his time, going over and over his faculty +list with a critical eye, and always with profound disapproval. +There were only three Ph.D.'s among them, and as a whole the +average of attainment was below, rather than above, the middle +grade. They were, he was obliged to admit, a lot of cheap men for a +cheap college. With such a staff, a distinguished standard was +clearly not to be hoped for. But what to do about it? His general +idea during the summer had been mercilessly to weed out the weak +brothers in the faculty, a few at a time, and fill their places +with men of the first standing. But now a great obstacle presented +itself. Men of the first standing demanded salaries of the first +standing. Blaines College was not at present in position to pay +such salaries. Obviously one of two courses remained. Either the +elevation of the faculty must proceed in a very modest form, or +else Blaines College must get in position to pay larger salaries. +West decided to move in both directions.</p> +<p>There was one man on the staff that West objected to from the +first faculty meeting. This was a man named Harkly Young, a +youngish, tobacco-chewing fellow of lowly origin and unlessoned +manners, who was "assistant professor" of mathematics at a salary +of one thousand dollars a year. Professor Young's bearing and +address did anything but meet the president's idea of +scholarliness; and West had no difficulty in convincing himself of +the man's incompetence. Details came to his attention from time to +time during the autumn which served to strengthen his snap-shot +judgment, but he made the mistake, doubtless, of failing to +communicate his dissatisfaction to Professor Young, and so giving +him an inkling of impending disaster. West knew of just the man for +this position, a brilliant young assistant superintendent of +schools in another part of the state, who could be secured for the +same salary. Eager to begin his house-cleaning and mark some +definite progress, West hurled his bolt from the blue. About the +middle of December he dispatched a letter to the doomed man +notifying him that his services would not be required after the +Christmas recess.</p> +<p>Instead of accepting his dismissal in a quiet and gentlemanly +way, and making of himself a glad thank-offering on the altar of +scholarship, Professor Young had the poor taste to create an +uproar. After satisfying himself in a stirring personal interview +that the president's letter was final, he departed in a fury, and +brought suit against the college and Charles Gardiner West +personally for his year's salary. He insisted that he had been +engaged for the full college year. To the court he represented that +he was a married man with six children, and absolutely dependent +upon his position for his livelihood.</p> +<p>Professor Young happened to be very unpopular with both his +colleagues and the students, and probably all felt that it was a +case of good riddance, particularly as West's new man rode rapidly +into general popularity. These facts hampered the Winterites on the +board, but nevertheless they made the most of the incident, +affecting to believe that Young had been harshly treated. The +issue, they intimated, was one of the classes against the masses. +The <i>Chronicle</i>, the penny evening paper which found it +profitable business to stand for the under-dog and "the masses," +scareheaded a jaundiced account of the affair, built up around an +impassioned statement from Professor Young. The same issue carried +an editorial entitled, "The Kid Glove College." West laughed at the +editorial, but he was a sensitive man to criticism and the +sarcastic gibes wounded him. When the attorneys for the college +advised a settlement out of court by paying the obstreperous Young +three hundred dollars in cash, James Winter was outspoken in his +remarks. A resolution restraining the president from making any +changes in the faculty, without the previous consent and approval +of the board, was defeated, after warm discussion, by the margin of +seven votes to five.</p> +<p>"By the Lord, gentlemen," said Mr. Fyne, indignantly, "if you +cannot put any confidence in the discretion of your president, +you'd better get one whose discretion you can put confidence +in."</p> +<p>"That's just what I say," rejoined James E. Winter, with instant +significance.</p> +<p>Other changes in his faculty West decided to defer till the +beginning of a new year. All his surplus energy should be +concentrated, he decided, on raising an endowment fund which should +put the college on a sound financial basis before that time came. +But here again he collided with the thick wall of trustee +bigotry.</p> +<p>In the city, despite his youth, he was already well known as a +speaker, and was a favorite orator on agreeable occasions of a +semi-public nature. This was a sort of prestige that was well worth +cultivating. In the State, and even outside of it, he had many +connections through various activities, and by deft correspondence +he easily put himself in line for such honors as they had to offer. +Invitations to speak came rolling in in the most gratifying way. +His plan was to mount upon these to invitations of an even higher +class. In December he made a much admired address before the +Associated Progress Boards. The next month, through much subtle +wire-pulling, he got himself put on the toast list at the annual +banquet of the distinguished American Society for the Promotion of +the Higher Education. There his name met on equal terms with names +as yet far better known. He spoke for ten minutes and sat down with +the thrill of having surpassed himself. A famous financier who sat +with him at the speaker's table told him that his speech was the +best of the evening, because the shortest, and asked several +questions about Blaines College. The young President returned home +in a fine glow, which the hostile trustees promptly subjected to a +cold douche.</p> +<p>"I'd like to inquire," said James E. Winter, sombrely, at the +January board meeting, "what is the point, if any, of the President +of Blaines College trapesing all over the country to attend these +here banquets."</p> +<p>They used unacademic as well as plain language in the Blaines +board meeting by this time. West smiled at Trustee Winter's +question. To him the man habitually seemed as malapropos as a +spiteful old lady.</p> +<p>"The point is, Mr. Winter, to get in touch with the sources of +endowment funds. Blaines College on its present foundation cannot +hope to compete with enlightened modern colleges of from five to +one hundred times its resources. If we mean to advance, we must do +it by bringing Blaines favorably to the attention of +philanthropists who—"</p> +<p>"No, <i>sir!</i>" roared Winter, bringing his contractor's fist +down thuddingly upon the long table. "Such noo-fangled ideas are +against the traditions of old Blaines College, I say! Old Blaines +College is not asking for alms. Old Blaines College is not a +whining beggar, whatever those Yankee colleges may be. I say, +gentlemen, it's beneath the dignity of old Blaines College for its +president to go about Noo York bowing and scraping and passing the +hat to Rockyfeller, and such-like boocaneers."</p> +<p>To West's unfeigned surprise, this view of the matter met with +solid backing. Reminiscences of the "tainted money" controversy +appeared in the trustees' talk. "Subsidized education" was heard +more than once. One spoke bitterly of Oil Colleges. No resolution +was introduced, James E. Winter having inadvertently come +unprepared, but the majority opinion was clearly that old Blaines +College (founded 1894) should draw in her traditional skirts from +the yellow flood then pouring over the country, and remain, small +it may be, but superbly incorruptible.</p> +<p>For once, West left his trustees thoroughly disgusted and out of +humor.</p> +<p>"Why, <i>why</i> are we doomed to this invincible hostility to a +new idea?" he cried, in the bitterness of his soul. "Here is the +spirit of progress not merely beckoning to us, but fairly springing +into our laps, and because it speaks in accents that were +unfamiliar to the slave patriarchy of a hundred years ago, we drag +it outside the city and crucify it. I tell you these old Bourbons +whom we call leaders are millstones around our necks, and we can +never move an inch until we've laid the last one of them under the +sod."</p> +<p>Sharlee Weyland, to whom he repeated this thought, though she +was all sympathy with his difficulties, did not nevertheless think +that this was quite fair. "Look," she said, "at the tremendous +progress we've made in the last ten years."</p> +<p>"Yes," he flashed back at her, "and who can say that a state +like Massachusetts, with the same incomparable opportunities, +wouldn't have made ten times as much!"</p> +<p>But he was the best-natured man alive, and his vexation soon +faded. In a week, he was once more busy planning out ways and +means. He sought funds in the metropolis no more, and the famous +financier spared him the mortification of having to refuse a +donation by considerately not offering one. But he continued to +make addresses in the State, and in the city he was in frequent +demand. However, the endowment fund remained obstinately immovable. +By February there had been no additions, unless we can count five +hundred dollars promised by dashing young Beverley Byrd on the +somewhat whimsical condition that his brother Stewart would give an +equal amount.</p> +<p>"Moreover," said young Mr. Byrd, "I'll increase it to seven +hundred and fifty dollars if your friend Winter will publicly +denounce me as a boocaneer. It'll help me in my business to be +lined up with Rockefeller and all those Ikes."</p> +<p>But this gift never materialized at all, for the reason that +Stewart Byrd kindly but firmly refused to give anything. A rich +vein of horse-sense underlay Byrd's philanthropic enthusiasms; and +even the necessity for the continued existence of old Blaines +College appeared to be by no means clear in his mind.</p> +<p>"If you had a free hand, Gardiner," said he, "that would be one +thing, but you haven't. I've had my eye on Blaines for a long time, +and frankly I don't think it is entitled to any assistance. You +have an inferior plant and a lot of inferior men; a small college +governed by small ideas and ridden by a close corporation of small +trustees—"</p> +<p>"But heavens, man!" protested West, "your argument makes a +perfect circle. You won't help Blaines because it's poorly +equipped, and Blaines is poorly equipped because the +yellow-rich—that's you—won't help it."</p> +<p>Stewart Byrd wiped his gold-rimmed glasses, laughing pleasantly. +He was the oldest of the four brothers, a man of authority at +forty; and West watched him with a secret admiration, not untouched +by a flicker of envy.</p> +<p>"What's the answer? Blessed if I know! The fact is, old fellow, +I think you've got an utterly hopeless job there, and if I were +you, I believe I'd get ready to throw it over at the first +opportunity."</p> +<p>West replied that it was only the hard things that were worth +doing in this life. None the less, as winter drew to a close, he +insensibly relaxed his efforts toward the immediate exaltation of +old Blaines. As he looked more closely into the situation, he +realized that his too impetuous desire for results had driven him +to waste energy in hopeless directions. How could he ever do +anything, with a lot of moss-backed trustees tying his hands and +feet every time he tried to toddle a step forward—he and +Blaines? Clearly the first step of all was to oust the fossils who +stood like rocks in the path of progress, and fill their places +with men who could at least recognize a progressive idea when they +were beaten across the nose with it. He studied his trustee list +now more purposefully than he had ever pored over his faculty line +up. By the early spring, he was ready to set subtle influences +going looking to the defeat of the insurgent five, including James +E. Winter, whose term happily expired on the first of January +following.</p> +<p>But the president's lines did not all fall in gloomy and prickly +places in these days. His perennial faculty for enjoyment never +deserted him even in his darkest hours. His big red automobile, +acquired on the crest of Semple and West's prosperity, was +constantly to be seen bowling down the street of an early-vernal +afternoon, or dancing down far country lanes light with a load of +two. The Thursday German had known him as of old, and many were the +delightful dinners where he proved, by merit alone, the life of the +party. Nor were his pleasures by any means all dissociated from +Blaines College. The local prestige that the president acquired +from his position was decidedly agreeable to him. Never an +educational point arose in the life of the city or the nation but +the <i>Post</i> carried a long interview giving Mr. West's views +upon it. Corner-stone laying afforded him a sincere joy. Even +discussions with parents about their young hopefuls was anything +but irksome to his buoyant nature.</p> +<p>Best and pleasantest of all was his relation with the students. +His notable gift for popularity, however futile it might be with +embittered asses like James E. Winter, served him in good stead +here. West could not conceal from himself that the boys idolized +him. With secret delight he saw them copying his walk, his taste in +waistcoats, the way he brushed back his hair. He had them in relays +to his home to supper, skipping only those of too hopeless an +uncouthness, and sent them home enchanted. He had introduced into +the collegiate programme a five-minute prayer, held every morning +at nine, at which he made brief addresses on some phase of college +ideals every Tuesday and Friday. Attendance at these gatherings was +optional, but it kept up in the most gratifying way, and sometimes +on a Friday the little assembly-room would be quite filled with the +frankly admiring lads. "Why should I mind the little annoyances," +would flash into his mind as he rose to speak, "when I can look +down into a lot of fine, loyal young faces like this. <i>Here</i> +is what counts." His appearance at student gatherings was always +attended by an ovation. He loved to hear the old Blaines cheer, +with three ringing "Prexy's" tacked on the end. One Saturday in +early April, Prexy took Miss Avery to a baseball game, somewhat +against her will, solely that she might see how his students +worshiped him. On the following Saturday, all with even-handed +liberality, he took Miss Weyland to another baseball game, with the +same delightful purpose.</p> +<p>The spring found West stronger and more contented with his lot +as president of a jerkwater college, decidedly happier for the +burning out of the fires of hot ambition which had consumed his +soul six months earlier. He told himself that he was reconciled to +a slow advance with fighting every inch of the way. But he saw the +uselessness of fighting trustees who were doomed soon to fall, and +resigned himself to a quiet, in fact a temporarily suspended, +programme of progress. And then, just when everything seemed most +comfortably serene, a new straw suddenly appeared in the wind, +which quickly multiplied into a bundle and then a bale, and all at +once the camel's back had more than it could bear. April was hardly +dead before the college world was in a turmoil, by the side of +which the Young affair was the mere buzzing of a gnat.</p> +<p>History is full of incidents of the kind: incidents which are +trifling beyond mention in the beginning, but which malign +circumstance distorts and magnifies till they set nations +daggers-drawn at each other's throats. Two students lured a +"freshman" to their room and there invited him to drink a marvelous +compound the beginnings of which were fat pork and olive oil; this +while standing on his head. The freshman did not feel in a position +to deny their request. But his was a delicate stomach, and the +result of his accommodating spirit was that he became violently, +though not seriously, ill. Thus the matter came to the attention of +his parents, and so to the college authorities. The sick lad +stoutly declined to tell who were his persecutors, but West managed +to track one of them down and summoned him to his office. We may +call this student Brown; a pleasant-mannered youth of excellent +family, whose sister West sometimes danced with at the Thursday +German. Brown said that he had, indeed, been present during the sad +affair, that he had, in fact, to his eternal humiliation and +regret, aided and abetted it; but he delicately hinted that the +prime responsibility rested on the shoulders of the other student. +Rather unwisely, perhaps, West pressed him to disclose the name of +his collaborator. (Brown afterwards, to square himself with the +students, alleged "intimidation.") A youth whom we may describe as +Jones was mentioned, and later, in the august private office, was +invited to tell what he knew of the disorder. Henceforward accounts +vary. Jones declared to the end that the president promised a light +punishment for all concerned if he would make a clean breast. West +asserted—and who would doubt his statement?—that he had +made no promise, or even a suggestion of a promise, of any kind. Be +that as it may, Jones proceeded, though declining to mention any +other name than his own. He declared positively that the idea of +hazing the freshman had not originated with him, but that he had +taken a culpable part in it, for which he was heartily sorry. Asked +whether he considered himself or his colleague principally +responsible for the injury to the freshman's health, he said that +he preferred not to answer. To West this seemed a damaging +admission, though perhaps not everybody would have so viewed it. He +sent Jones away with no intimation of what he proposed to do.</p> +<p>There was the situation, plain as a barn at noonday. All that +was needed was tact, judgment, and a firm hand. The young president +hesitated. Ordinarily he would have taken a quiet hour in the +evening to think it all over carefully, but as it +happened—like Lord George Germaine and the dispatch to +Burgoyne—social engagements rushed forward to occupy his +time. Next morning his mail brought several letters, urging him to +set his foot ruthlessly on the serpent-head of hazing. His +telephone rang with the same firm counsel. The <i>Post</i>, he saw, +had a long leading article insisting that discipline must be +maintained at all hazards. It was observed that this article +thundered in the old Colonel's best style, and this was the more +noteworthy in that the article in question happened to be written +by a young man of the name of Queed.</p> +<p>West would have preferred to let the matter stand for a day or +so, but he saw that prompt and decisive action was expected of him. +Denying himself to callers, he shut himself in his office, to +determine what was just and fair and right. The advice of his +correspondents, and of the <i>Post</i>, tallied exactly with what +the trustees had told him in the beginning about the traditions of +old Blaines. Hazing was not to be tolerated under any +circumstances. Therefore, somebody's head would now have to fall. +There could hardly be any occasion for expelling nice young Brown. +For a minor consideration, it would be decidedly awkward +henceforward, to have to offer salt to Mrs. Brown at dinner, as he +had done only last week, with the hand that had ruined her son's +career. Much more important, it seemed clear enough to West that +the boy had only been weak, and had been tempted into misbehavior +by his older and more wilful comrade. West had never liked young +Jones. He was a rawboned, unkempt sprig of the masses, who had not +been included in any of the student suppers at the president's +house. Jones's refusal to speak out fully on all the details of the +affair pointed strongly, so West argued, to consciousness of +damning guilt. The path of administrative duty appeared plain. +West, to say truth, had not at first expected to apply the drastic +penalty of expulsion at all, but it was clear that this was what +the city expected of him. The universal cry was for unshrinking +firmness. Well, he would show them that he was firm, and shrank +from no unpleasantness where his duty was concerned. Brown he +ordered before him for a severe reprimand, and Jones he summarily +dismissed from old Blaines College.</p> +<p>These decrees went into effect at noon. At 4 o'clock in the +afternoon the war-dogs broke their leashes. Four was the hour when +the "night" edition of the <i>Evening Chronicle</i> came smoking +hot from the presses. It appeared that young Jones was the son, not +merely of a plumber, but of a plumber who was decidedly prominent +in lodge circles and the smaller areas of politics. His case was +therefore precisely the kind that the young men of the Chronicle +loved to espouse. The three-column scare-head over their bitterly +partisan "story" ran thus:</p> +<p>POOR BOY KICKED OUT<br /> +BY PRESIDENT WEST</p> +<p>Close beside this, lest the reader should fail to grasp the full +meaning of the boldface, was a three-column cartoon, crudely drawn +but adroit enough. It represented West, unpleasantly caricatured, +garbed in a swallow-tail coat and enormous white gloves, with a +gardenia in his buttonhole, engaged in booting a lad of singular +nobility of countenance out of an open door. A tag around the lad's +neck described him as "The Workingman's Son." Under the devilish +drawing ran a line which said, succinctly, "His Policies." On page +four was a double column, double-leaded editorial, liberal with +capitals and entitled: "Justice in Silk Stockings."</p> +<p>But this was only a beginning. Next morning's <i>Post</i>, which +West had counted on to come to his assistance with a ringing +leader, so earnestly discussed rotation of crops and the +approaching gubernatorial campaign, that it had not a line for the +little disturbance at the college. If this was a disappointment to +West, a greater blow awaited him. Not to try to gloss over the +mortifying circumstance, he was hissed when he entered the morning +assembly—he, the prince, idol, and darling of his students. +Though the room was full, the hissing was of small proportions, but +rather too big to be ignored. West, after debating with himself +whether or not he should notice it, made a graceful and manly +two-minute talk which, he flattered himself, effectually abashed +the lads who had so far forgotten themselves. None the less the +demonstration cut him to the quick. When four o'clock came he found +himself waiting for the appearance of the <i>Chronicle</i> with an +anxiety which he had never conceived possible with regard to that +paper. A glance at its lurid front showed that the blatherskites +had pounded him harder than ever. A black headline glared with the +untruth that President West had been "Hissed by Entire Student +Body." Editorially, the <i>Chronicle</i> passionately inquired +whether the taxpayers enjoyed having the college which they so +liberally supported (exact amount seventy-five hundred dollars a +year) mismanaged in so gross a way.</p> +<p>West put a laughing face upon these calumnies, but to himself he +owned that he was deeply hurt. Dropping in at the club that night, +he found a group of men, all his friends, eagerly discussing the +shindig, as they called it. Joining in with that perfect good-humor +and lack of false pride which was characteristic of him, he +gathered that all of them thought he had made a mistake. It seemed +to be considered that Brown had put himself in a bad light by +trying to throw the blame on Jones. Jones, they said, should not +have been bounced without Brown, and probably the best thing would +have been not to bounce either. The irritating thing about this +latter view was that it was exactly what West had thought in the +first place, before pressure was applied to him.</p> +<p>In the still watches of the night the young man was harried by +uncertainties and tortured by stirring suspicions. Had he been fair +to Jones, after all? Was his summary action in regard to that youth +prompted in the faintest degree by personal dislike? Was he +conceivably the kind of man who is capable of thinking one thing +and doing another? The most afflicting of all doubts, doubt of +himself, kept the young man tossing on his pillow for at least an +hour.</p> +<p>But he woke with a clear-cut decision singing in his mind and +gladdening his morning. He would take Jones back. He would +generously reinstate the youth, on the ground that the public +mortification already put upon him was a sufficient punishment for +his sins and abundant warning for others like-minded. This would +settle all difficulties at one stroke and definitely lay the ghost +of a disagreeable occurrence. The solution was so simple that he +marvelled that he had not thought of it before.</p> +<p>His morning's mail, containing one or two very unpleasant +letters, only strengthened his determination. He lost no time in +carrying it out. By special messenger he dispatched a carefully +written and kindly letter to Jones, Senior. Jones, Senior, tore it +across the middle and returned it by the same messenger. He then +informed the <i>Chronicle</i> what he had done. The +<i>Chronicle</i> that afternoon shrieked it under a five-column +head, together with a ferocious statement from Jones, Senior, +saying that he would rather see his son breaking rocks in the road +than a student in such a college as Blaines was, under the present +régime. The editor, instead of seeing in West's letter a +spontaneous act of magnanimity in the interest of the academic +uplift, maliciously twisted it into a grudging confession of error, +"unrelieved by the grace of manly retraction and apology." So ran +the editorial, which was offensively headed "West's Fatal Flop." +Some of the State papers, it seemed from excerpts printed in +another column, were foolishly following the <i>Chronicle's</i> +lead; Republican cracker-box orators were trying somehow to make +capital of the thing; and altogether there was a very unpleasant +little mess, which showed signs of developing rapidly into what is +known as an "issue."</p> +<p>That afternoon, when the tempest in the collegiate teapot was +storming at its merriest, West, being downtown on private business, +chanced to drop in at the Post office, according to his frequent +habit. He found the sanctum under the guard of the young assistant +editor. The Colonel, in fact, had been sick in bed for four days, +and in his absence, Queed was acting-editor and sole contributor of +the leaded minion. The two young men greeted each other +pleasantly.</p> +<p>"I'm reading you every day," said West, presently, "and, +flattery and all that aside, I've been both surprised and delighted +at the character of the work you're doing. It's fully up to the +best traditions of the <i>Post</i>, and that strikes me as quite a +feat for a man of your years."</p> +<p>Because he was pleased at this tribute, Queed answered briefly, +and at once changed the subject. But he did it maladroitly by +expressing the hope that things were going well with Mr. West.</p> +<p>"Well, not hardly," said West, and gave his pleasant laugh. "You +may possibly have noticed from our esteemed afternoon contemporary +that I'm in a very pretty little pickle. But by the way," he added, +with entire good humor, "the <i>Post</i> doesn't appear to have +noticed it after all."</p> +<p>"No," said Queed, slowly, not pretending to misunderstand. He +hesitated, a rare thing with him. "The fact is I could not write +what you would naturally wish to have written, and therefore I +haven't written anything at all."</p> +<p>West threw up his hands in mock horror. "Here's another one! +Come on, fellers! Kick him!—he's got no friends! You know," +he laughed, "I remind myself of the man who stuck his head in at +the teller's window, wanting to have a check cashed. The teller +didn't know him from Adam. 'Have you any friends here in the city?' +asked he. 'Lord, no!' said the stranger; 'I'm the weather +man.'"</p> +<p>Queed smiled.</p> +<p>"And I was only trying in my poor way," said West, mournfully, +"to follow the advice that you, young man, roared at me for a +column on the fatal morning."</p> +<p>"I've regretted that," said Queed. "Though, of course, I never +looked for any such developments as this. I was merely trying to +act on Colonel Cowles's advice about always playing up local +topics. You are doubtless familiar with his dictum that the people +are far more interested in a cat-fight at Seventh and Centre +Streets than in the greatest exploits of science."</p> +<p>West laughed and rose to go. Then a good-natured thought struck +him. "Look here," said he, "this must be a great load, with the +Colonel away—doing all of three columns a day by yourself. +How on earth do you manage it?"</p> +<p>"Well, I start work at eight o'clock in the morning."</p> +<p>"And what time does that get you through?"</p> +<p>"Usually in time to get to press with it."</p> +<p>"Oh, I say! That won't do at all. You'll break yourself down, +playing both ends against the middle like that. Let me help you +out, won't you? Let me do something for you right now?"</p> +<p>"If you really feel like it," said Queed, remembering how the +Colonel welcomed Mr. West's occasional contributions to his +columns, "of course I shall be glad to have something from +you."</p> +<p>"Why, my dear fellow, certainly! Hand me some copy-paper there, +and go right on with your work while I unbosom my pent-up +Uticas."</p> +<p>He meditated a moment, wrote rapidly for half an hour, and rose +with a hurried glance at his watch.</p> +<p>"Here's a little squib about the college that may serve as a +space-filler. I must fly for an engagement. I'll try to come down +to-morrow afternoon anyway, and if you need anything to-night, +'phone me. Delighted to help you out."</p> +<p>Queed picked up the scattered sheets and read them over +carefully. He found that Director West had written a very able +defense, and whole-hearted endorsement, of President West's +position in the Blaines College hazing affair.</p> +<p>The acting editor sat for some time in deep thought. Eighteen +months' increasing contact with Buck Klinker and other men of +action had somewhat tamed his soaring self-sufficiency. He was not +nearly so sure as he once was that he knew everything there was to +know, and a little more besides. West, personally, whom he saw +often, he had gradually come to admire with warmth. By slow degrees +it came to him that the popular young president had many qualities +of a very desirable sort which he himself lacked. West's opinion on +a question of college discipline was likely to be at least as sound +as his own. Moreover, West was one of the owners and managers of +the <i>Post</i>.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, he, Queed, did not see how he could accept and +print this article.</p> +<p>It was the old-school Colonel's fundamental axiom, drilled into +and fully adopted by his assistant, that the editor must be +personally responsible for every word that appeared in his columns. +Those columns, to be kept pure, must represent nothing but the +editor's personal views. Therefore, on more than one occasion, the +Colonel had refused point-blank to prepare articles which his +directors wished printed. He always accompanied these refusals with +his resignation, which the directors invariably returned to him, +thereby abandoning their point. Queed was for the moment editor in +the Colonel's stead. Over the telephone, Colonel Cowles had +instructed him, four days before, to assume full responsibility, +communicating with him or with the directors if he was in doubt, +but standing firmly on his own legs. As to where those legs now +twitched to lead him, the young man could have no doubt. If he had +a passion in his scientist's bosom, it was for exact and +unflinching veracity. Even to keep the <i>Post</i> silent had been +something of a strain upon his instinct for truth, for a voice +within him had whispered that an honest journal <i>ought</i> to +have some opinion to express on a matter so locally interesting as +this. To publish this editorial would strain the instinct to the +breaking point and beyond. For it would be equivalent to saying, +whether anybody else but him knew it or not, that he, the present +editor of the <i>Post</i> approved and endorsed West's position, +when the truth was that he did nothing of the sort.</p> +<p>At eight o'clock that night, he succeeded, after prolonged +search of the town on the part of the switchboard boy, in getting +West to the telephone.</p> +<p>"Mr. West," said Queed, "I am very sorry, but I don't see how I +can print your article."</p> +<p>"Oh, Lord!" came West's untroubled voice back over the wire. +"And a man's enemies shall be those of his own household. What's +wrong with it, Mr. Editor?"</p> +<p>Queed explained his reluctances. "If that is not satisfactory to +you," he added, at the end, "as it hardly can be, I give you my +resignation now, and you yourself can take charge immediately."</p> +<p>"Bless your heart, no! Put it in the waste-basket. It doesn't +make a kopeck's worth of difference. Here's a thought, though. Do +you approve of the tactics of those <i>Chronicle</i> fellows in the +matter?"</p> +<p>"No, I do not."</p> +<p>"Well, why not show them up to-morrow?"</p> +<p>"I'll be glad to do it."</p> +<p>So Queed wrote a stinging little article of a couple of sticks' +length, holding up to public scorn journalistic redshirts who +curry-combed the masses, and preached class hatred for the money +there was in it. It is doubtful if this article helped matters +much. For the shameless <i>Chronicle</i> seized on it as showing +that the <i>Post</i> had tried to defend the president, and utterly +failed. "Even the West organ," so ran its brazen capitals, "does +not dare endorse its darling. And no wonder, after the storm of +indignation aroused by the <i>Chronicle's</i> fearless +exposures."</p> +<p>West kept his good humor and self-control intact, but it was +hardly to be expected that he enjoyed venomous misrepresentation of +this sort. The solidest comfort he got in these days came from +Sharlee Weyland, who did not read the <i>Chronicle</i>, and was +most beautifully confident that whatever he had done was right. But +after all, the counselings of Miss Avery, of whom he also saw much +that spring, better suited his disgruntled humor.</p> +<p>"They are incapable of appreciating you," said she, a siren in +the red motor. "You owe it to yourself to enter a larger field. +And"—so ran the languorous voice—"to your friends."</p> +<p>The trustees met on Saturday, with the <i>Chronicle</i> still +pounding away with deadly regularity. Its editorial of the +afternoon before was entitled, "We Want A College +President—Not A Class President," and had frankly urged the +trustees of old Blaines to consider whether a change of +administration was not advisable. This was advice which some of the +trustees were only too ready to follow. James E. Winter, coming +armed cap-à-pie to the meeting, suggested that Mr. West +withdraw for a time, which Mr. West properly declined to do. The +implacable insurgent thereupon launched into a bitter face-to-face +denunciation of the president's conduct in the hazing affair, +outpacing the <i>Chronicle</i> by intimating, too plainly for +courtesy, that the president's conduct toward Jones was +characterized by duplicity, if not wanting in consistent adherence +to veracity. "I had a hard time to keep from hitting him," said +West afterwards, "but I knew that would be the worst thing I could +possibly do." "Maybe so," sighed Mr. Fyne, apparently not with full +conviction. Winter went too far in moving that the president's +continuance in office was prejudicial to the welfare of Blaines +College, and was defeated 9 to 3. Nevertheless, West always looked +back at this meeting as one of the most unpleasant incidents in his +life. He flung out of it humiliated, angry, and thoroughly sick at +heart.</p> +<p>West saw himself as a persecuted patriot, who had laid a costly +oblation on the altar of public spirit only to see the base crowd +jostle forward and spit upon it. He was poor in this world's goods. +It had cost him five thousand a year to accept the presidency of +Blaines College. And this was how they rewarded him. To him, as he +sat long in his office brooding upon the darkness of life, there +came a visitor, a tall, angular, twinkling-eyed, slow-speaking +individual who perpetually chewed an unlighted cigar. He was Plonny +Neal, no other, the reputed great chieftain of city politics. Once +the <i>Post</i>, in an article inspired by West, had referred to +Plonny as "this notorious grafter." Plonny could hardly have +considered this courteous; but he was a man who never remembered a +grudge, until ready to pay it back with compound interest. West's +adolescent passion for the immediate reform of politics had long +since softened, and nowadays when the whirligig of affairs threw +the two men together, as it did not infrequently, they met on the +easiest and friendliest terms. West liked Plonny, as everybody did, +and of Plonny's sincere liking for him he never had the slightest +doubt.</p> +<p>In fact, Mr. Neal's present call was to report that the manner +in which a lady brushes a midge from her summering brow was no +simpler than the wiping of James E. Winter off the board of Blaines +College.</p> +<p>That topic being disposed of, West introduced another.</p> +<p>"Noticed the way the <i>Chronicle</i> is jumping on me with all +four feet, Plonny?" he asked, with rather a forced laugh. "Why +can't those fellows forget it and leave me alone?"</p> +<p>By a slow facial manoeuvre, Mr. Neal contrived to make his cigar +look out upon the world with contemptuousness unbearable.</p> +<p>"Why, nobody pays no attention to them fellers' wind, Mr. West. +You could buy them off for a hundred dollars, ten dollars down, and +have them praising you three times a week for two hundred dollars, +twenty-five dollars down. I only take the paper," said Mr. Neal, +"because their Sunday is mighty convenient f'r packin' furniture +f'r shipment."</p> +<p>The <i>Chronicle</i> was the only paper Mr. Neal ever thought of +reading, and this was how he stabbed it in the back.</p> +<p>"I don't want to butt in, Mr. West," said he, rising, "and you +can stop me if I am, but as a friend of yours—why are you +botherin' yourself at all with this here kid's-size +proposition?"</p> +<p>"What kid's-size proposition?"</p> +<p>"This little two-by-twice grammar school that tries to pass +itself off for a college. And you ain't even boss of it at that! +You got a gang of mossbacks sitting on your head who don't get a +live idea among 'em wunst a year. Why, the archangel Gabriel +wouldn't have a show with a lot of corpses like them! Of course it +ain't my business to give advice to a man like you, and I'm +probably offendin' you sayin' this, but someway you don't seem to +see what's so plain to everybody else. It's your modesty keeps you +blind, I guess. But here's what I don't see: why don't you come out +of this little hole in the ground and get in line?"</p> +<p>"In line?"</p> +<p>"You're dead and buried here. Now you mention the <i>Evening +Windbag</i> that nobody pays no more attention to than kids yelling +in the street. How about having a paper of your own some day, to +express your own ideas and get things done, big things, the way you +want 'em?"</p> +<p>"You mean the <i>Post?</i>"</p> +<p>"Well, the editor of the <i>Post</i> certainly would be in line, +whereas the president of Blaines Grammar School certainly +ain't."</p> +<p>"What do you mean by in line, Plonny?"</p> +<p>Mr. Neal invested his cigar with an enigmatic significance. "I +might mean one thing and I might mean another. I s'pose you never +give a thought to poltix, did you?"</p> +<p>"Well, in a general way I have thought of it sometimes."</p> +<p>"Think of it some more," said Mr. Neal, from the door. "I see a +kind of shake-up comin'. People say I've got infloonce in poltix, +and sort of help to run things. Of course it ain't so. I've got no +more infloonce than what my ballot gives me, and my takin' an +intelligent public interest in what's goin' on. But it looks to an +amatoor like the people are gettin' tired of this ring-rule they +been givin' us, and 're goin' to rise in their majesty pretty soon, +and fill the offices with young progressive men who never heeled +f'r the organization."</p> +<p>He went away, leaving the young president of Blaines vastly +cheered. Certainly no language could have made Neal's meaning any +plainer. He had come to tell West that, if he would only consent to +get in line, he, great Neal, desired to put him in high +office—doubtless the Mayoralty, which in all human +probability meant the Governorship four years later.</p> +<p>West sat long in rapt meditation. He marveled at himself for +having ever accepted his present position. Its limitations were so +narrow and so palpable, its possibilities were so restricted, its +complacent provincialism so glaring, that the imaginative glories +with which he had once enwrapped it seemed now simply grotesque. As +long as he remained, he was an entombed nonentity. Beyond the +college walls, out of the reach of the contemptible bigotry of the +trustees of this world, the people were calling for him. He could +be the new type of public servant, the clean, strong, fearless, +idolized young Moses, predestined to lead a tired people into the +promised land of political purity. Once more a white meadow of +eager faces rolled out before the eye of his mind; and this time, +from the buntinged hustings, he did not extol learning with classic +periods, but excoriated political dishonesty in red-hot phrases +which jerked the throngs to their feet, frenzied with ardor....</p> +<p>And it was while he was still in this vein of thought, as it +happened, that Colonel Cowles, at eleven o'clock on the first night +of June, dropped dead in his bathroom, and left the <i>Post</i> +without an editor.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>The Little House on Duke of Gloucester Street; and the +Beginning of Various Feelings, Sensibilities, and Attitudes between +two Lonely Men.</i></p> +</div> +<p>One instant thought the news of the Colonel's death struck from +nearly everybody's mind: <i>He'll miss the Reunion</i>. For within +a few days the city was to witness that yearly gathering of broken +armies which, of all assemblages among men, the Colonel had loved +most dearly. In thirty years, he had not missed one, till now. They +buried the old warrior with pomp and circumstance, not to speak of +many tears, and his young assistant in the sanctum came home from +the graveside with a sense of having lost a valued counselor and +friend. Only the home to which the assistant returned with this +feeling was not the Third Hall Back of Mrs. Paynter's, sometimes +known as the Scriptorium, but a whole suite of pleasant rooms, +upstairs and down, in a nice little house on Duke of Gloucester +Street. For Nicolovius had made his contemplated move on the first +of May, and Queed had gone with him.</p> +<p>It was half-past six o'clock on a pretty summer's evening. Queed +opened the house-door with a latch-key and went upstairs to the +comfortable living-room, which faithfully reproduced the old +professor's sitting-room at Mrs. Paynter's. Nicolovius, in his +black silk cap, was sitting near the open window, reading and +smoking a strong cigarette.</p> +<p>"Ah, here you are! I was just thinking that you were rather +later than usual this evening."</p> +<p>"Yes, I went to Colonel Cowles's funeral. It was decidedly +impressive."</p> +<p>"Ah!"</p> +<p>Queed dropped down into one of Nicolovius's agreeable chairs and +let his eyes roam over the room. He was extremely comfortable in +this house; a little too comfortable, he was beginning to think +now, considering that he paid but seven dollars and fifty cents a +week towards its support. He had a desk and lamp all his own in the +living-room, a table and lamp in his bedroom, ease and independence +over two floors. An old negro man looked after the two gentlemen +and gave them excellent things to eat. The house was an old one, +and small; it was in an unfashionable part of town, and having +stood empty for some time, could be had for thirty-five dollars a +month. However, Nicolovius had wiped out any economy here by +spending his money freely to repair and beautify. He had had +workmen in the house for a month, papering, painting, plumbing, and +altering.</p> +<p>"Dozens of people could not get in the church," said Queed. +"They stood outside in the street till the service was over."</p> +<p>Nicolovius was looking out of the window, and answered casually. +"I daresay he was an excellent man according to his lights."</p> +<p>"Coming to know him very well in the past year, I found that his +lights stood high."</p> +<p>"As high, I am sure, as the environment in which he was born and +raised made possible."</p> +<p>"You have a low opinion, then, of ante-bellum civilization in +the South?"</p> +<p>"Who that knows his history could have otherwise?"</p> +<p>"You know history, I admit," said Queed, lightly falling upon +the side issue, "surprisingly, indeed, considering that you have +not read it for so many years."</p> +<p>"A man is not likely to forget truths burned into him when he is +young."</p> +<p>"Everything depends," said Queed, returning to his muttons, +"upon how you are going to appraise a civilization. If the only +true measure is economic efficiency, no one can question that the +old Southern system was one of the worst ever conceived."</p> +<p>"Can you, expert upon organized society as you are, admit any +doubts upon that point?"</p> +<p>"I am admitting doubts upon a good many points these days."</p> +<p>Nicolovius resumed his cigarette. Talk languished. Both men +enjoyed a good silence. Many a supper they ate through without a +word. The old man's attitude toward the young one was charming. He +had sloughed off some of the too polished blandness of his manner, +and now offered a simpler meeting ground of naturalness and +kindliness. They had shared the Duke of Gloucester Street roof-tree +for a month, but Queed did not yet accept it as a matter of course. +He was decidedly more prone to be analytical than he had been a +year ago. Yet whatever could be urged against it, the little house +was in one way making a subtle tug upon his regard: it was the +nearest thing to a home that he had ever had in his life, or was +ever likely to have.</p> +<p>"And when will the <i>Post</i> directors meet to choose his +successor?"</p> +<p>"I haven't heard. Very soon, I should think."</p> +<p>"It is certain, I suppose," said Nicolovius, "that they will +name you?"</p> +<p>"Oh, not at all—by no means! I am merely receptive, that +is all."</p> +<p>Queed glanced at his watch and rose. "There is half an hour +before supper, I see. I think I must turn it to account."</p> +<p>Nicolovius looked regretful. "Why not allow yourself this +minute's rest, and me the pleasure of your society?"</p> +<p>Queed hesitated. "No—I think my duty is to my work."</p> +<p>He passed into the adjoining room, which was his bedroom, and +shut the door. Here at his table, he passed all of the hours that +he spent in the house, except after supper, when he did his work in +the sitting-room with Nicolovius. He felt that, in honor, he owed +some companionship, of the body at least, to the old man in +exchange for the run of the house, and his evenings were his +conscientious concession to his social duty. But sometimes he felt +the surprising and wholly irrational impulse to concede more, to +give the old man a larger measure of society than he was, so to +say, paying for. He felt it now as he seated himself methodically +and opened his table drawer.</p> +<p>From a purely selfish point of view, which was the only point of +view from which such a compact need be considered, he could hardly +think that his new domestic arrangement was a success. Greater +comforts he had, of course, but it is not upon comforts that the +world's work hangs. The important facts were that he was paying as +much as he had paid at Mrs. Paynter's, and was enjoying rather less +privacy. He and Nicolovius were friends of convenience only. Yet +somehow the old professor managed to obtrude himself perpetually +upon his consciousness. The young man began to feel an annoying +sense of personal responsibility toward him, an impulse which his +reason rejected utterly.</p> +<p>He was aware that, personally, he wished himself back at Mrs. +Paynter's and the Scriptorium. A free man, in possession of this +knowledge, would immediately pack up and return. But that was just +the trouble. He who had always, hitherto, been the freest man in +the world, appeared no longer to be free. He was aware that he +would find it very difficult to walk into the sitting-room at this +moment, and tell Nicolovius that he was going to leave. The old man +would probably make a scene. The irritating thing about it was that +Nicolovius, being as solitary in the great world as he himself, +actually <i>minded</i> his isolation, and was apparently coming to +depend upon <i>him</i>.</p> +<p>But after all, he was contented here, and his work was +prospering largely. The days of his preparation for his <i>Post</i> +labors were definitely over. He no longer had to read or study; he +stood upon his feet, and carried his editorial qualifications under +his hat. His duties as assistant editor occupied him but four or +five hours a day; some three hours a day—the allotment was +inexact, for the Schedule had lost its first rigid +precision—to the Sciences of Physical Culture and Human +Intercourse; all the rest to the Science of Sciences. Glorious +mornings, and hardly less glorious nights, he gave, day after day, +week after week, to the great book; and because of his +astonishingly enhanced vitality, he made one hour tell now as an +hour and a half had told in the period of the establishment of the +Scriptorium.</p> +<p>And now, without warning and prematurely, the jade Fortune had +pitched a bomb at this new Revised Schedule of his, leaving him to +decide whether he would patch up the pieces or not. And he had +decided that he would not patch them up. Colonel Cowles was dead. +The directors of the <i>Post</i> might choose him to succeed the +Colonel, or they might not. But if they did choose him, he had +finally made up his mind that he would accept the election.</p> +<p>In his attitude toward the newspaper, Queed was something like +those eminent fellow-scientists of his who have set out to "expose" +spiritualism and "the occult," and have ended as the most gullible +customers of the most dubious of "mediums." The idea of being +editor for its own sake, which he had once jeered and flouted, he +had gradually come to consider with large respect. The work drew +him amazingly; it was applied science of a peculiarly fascinating +sort. And in the six days of the Colonel's illness in May, when he +had full charge of the editorial page—and again now—he +had an exhilarating consciousness of personal power which lured +him, oddly, more than any sensation he had ever had in his +life.</p> +<p>No inducements of this sort, alone, could ever have drawn him +from his love. However, his love was safe, in any case. If they +made him editor, they would give him an assistant. He would keep +his mornings for himself—four hours a day. In the long vigil +last night, he had threshed the whole thing out. On a four-hour +schedule he could finish his book in four years and a half +more:—an unprecedentedly early age to have completed so +monumental a work. And who could say that in thus making haste +slowly, he would not have acquired a breadth of outlook, and closer +knowledge of the practical conditions of life, which would be +advantageously reflected in the Magnum Opus itself?</p> +<p>The young man sat at his table, the sheaf of yellow sheets which +made up the chapter he was now working on ready under his hand. +Around him were his reference books, his note-books, his pencils +and erasers, all the neat paraphernalia of his trade. Everything +was in order; yet he touched none of them. Presently his eyes fell +upon his open watch, and his mind went off into new channels, or +rather into old channels which he thought he had abandoned for this +half-hour at any rate. In five minutes more, he put away his +manuscript, picked up his watch, and strolled back into the +sitting-room.</p> +<p>Nicolovius was sitting where he had left him, except that now he +was not reading but merely staring out of the window. He glanced +around with a look of pleased surprise and welcome.</p> +<p>"Ah-h! Did genius fail to burn?" he asked, employing a bromidic +phrase which Queed particularly detested.</p> +<p>"That is one way of putting it, I suppose."</p> +<p>"Or did you take pity on my solitariness? You must not let me +become a drag upon you."</p> +<p>Queed, dropping into a chair, rather out of humor, made no +reply. Nicolovius continued to look out of the window.</p> +<p>"I see in the <i>Post</i>," he presently began again, "that +Colonel Cowles, after getting quite well, broke himself down again +in preparing for the so-called Reunion. It seems rather hard to +have to give one's life for such a rabble of beggars."</p> +<p>"That is how you regard the veterans, is it?"</p> +<p>"Have you ever seen the outfit?"</p> +<p>"Never."</p> +<p>"I have lived here long enough to learn something of them. Look +at them for yourself next week. Mix with them. Talk with them. You +will find them worth a study—and worth nothing else under the +sun."</p> +<p>"I have been looking forward to doing something of that sort," +said Queed, introspectively.</p> +<p>Had not Miss Weyland, the last time he had seen +her—namely, one evening about two months +before,—expressly invited him to come and witness the Reunion +parade from her piazza?</p> +<p>"You will see," said Nicolovius, in his purring voice, "a lot of +shabby old men, outside and in, who never did an honest day's work +in their lives."</p> +<p>He paused, finished his cigarette and suavely resumed:</p> +<p>"They went to war as young men, because it promised to be more +exciting than pushing a plow over a worn-out hillside. Or because +there was nothing else to do. Or because they were conscripted and +kicked into it. They came out of the war the most invincible +grafters in history. The shiftless boor of a stable-boy found +himself transformed into a shining hero, and he meant to lie back +and live on it for the rest of his days. Be assured that he +understood very well the cash value of his old uniform. If he had a +peg-leg or an empty sleeve, so much the more impudently could he +pass around his property cap. For forty years, he and his mendicant +band have been a cursed albatross hung around the necks of their +honest fellows. Able-bodied men, they have lolled back and eaten up +millions of dollars, belonging to a State which they pretend to +love and which, as they well know, has needed every penny for the +desperate struggle of existence. Since the political party which +dominates this State is too cowardly to tell them to go to work or +go to the devil, it will be a God's mercy when the last one of them +is in his grave. You may take my word for that."</p> +<p>But Queed, being a scientist by passion, never took anybody's +word for anything. He always went to the original sources of +information, and found out for himself. It was a year now since he +had begun saturating himself in the annals of the State and the +South, and he had scoured the field so effectually that Colonel +Cowles himself had been known to appeal to him on a point of +history, though the Colonel had forty years' start on him, and had +himself helped to make that history.</p> +<p>Therefore Queed knew that Nicolovius, by taking the case of one +soldier in ten, perhaps, or twenty or fifty, and offering it as +typical of the whole, was bitterly caricaturing history; and he +wondered why in the world the old man cared to do it.</p> +<p>"My own reading of the recent history of the South," said Queed, +"can hardly sustain such a view."</p> +<p>"You have only to read further to be convinced."</p> +<p>"But I thought you yourself never read recent history."</p> +<p>Nicolovius flung him a sharp look, which the young man, staring +thoughtfully at the floor, missed. The old professor laughed.</p> +<p>"My dear boy! I read it on the lips of Major Brooke, I read it +daily in the newspapers, I read it in such articles as your Colonel +Cowles wrote about this very Reunion. I cannot get away from +history in the making, if I would. Ah, there is the supper +bell—I'm quite ready for it, too. Let us go down."</p> +<p>They went down arm in arm. On the stairs Nicolovius said: "These +Southern manifestations interest me because, though extreme, they +are after all so absurdly typical of human nature. I have even seen +the same sort of thing in my own land."</p> +<p>Queed, though he knew the history of Ireland very well, could +not recall any parallel to the United Confederate Veterans in the +annals of that country. Still, a man capable of distorting history +as Nicolovius distorted it could always find a parallel to anything +anywhere.</p> +<p>When the meal was about half over, Queed said:—</p> +<p>"You slept badly last night, didn't you?"</p> +<p>"Yes—my old enemy. The attack soon passed. However, you +may be sure that it is a comfort at such times to know that I am +not alone."</p> +<p>"If you should need any—ahem—assistance, I assume +that you will call me," said Queed, after a pause.</p> +<p>"Thank you. You can hardly realize what your presence here, your +companionship and, I hope I may say, your friendship, mean to +me."</p> +<p>Queed glanced at him over the table, and hastily turned his +glance away. He had surprised Nicolovius looking at him with a +curiously tender look in his black diamond eyes.</p> +<p>The young man went to the office that night, worried by two +highly irritating ideas. One was that Nicolovius was most +unjustifiably permitting himself to become dependent upon him. The +other was that it was very peculiar that a Fenian refugee should +care to express slanderous views of the soldiers of a Lost Cause. +Both thoughts, once introduced into the young man's mind, +obstinately stuck there.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Meeting of the Post Directors to elect a Successor to Colonel +Cowles; Charles Gardiner West's Sensible Remarks on Mr. Queed; Mr. +West's Resignation from Old Blaines College, and New Consecration +to the Uplift.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The <i>Post</i> directors gathered in special meeting on Monday. +Their first act was to adopt some beautiful resolutions, prepared +by Charles Gardiner West, in memory of the editor who had served +the paper so long and so well. Next they changed the organization +of the staff, splitting the late Colonel's heavy duties in two, by +creating the separate position of managing editor; this official to +have complete authority over the news department of the paper, as +the editor had over its editorial page. The directors named Evan +Montague, the able city editor of the Post, to fill the new +position, while promoting the strongest of the reporters to fill +the city desk.</p> +<p>The chairman, Stewart Byrd, then announced that he was ready to +receive nominations for, or hear discussion about, the +editorship.</p> +<p>One of the directors, Mr. Hopkins, observed that, as he viewed +it, the directors should not feel restricted to local timber in the +choice of a successor to the Colonel. He said that the growing +importance of the <i>Post</i> entitled it to an editor of the first +ability, and that the directors should find such a one, whether in +New York, or Boston, or San Francisco.</p> +<p>Another director, Mr. Boggs, remarked that it did not +necessarily follow that a thoroughly suitable man must be a New +York, Boston, or San Francisco man. Unless he was greatly deceived, +there was an eminently suitable man, not merely in the city, but in +the office of the <i>Post</i>, where, since Colonel Cowles's death, +he was doing fourteen hours of excellent work per day for the sum +of fifteen hundred dollars per annum.</p> +<p>"Mr. Boggs's point," said Mr. Hickok, a third director, who +looked something like James E. Winter, "is exceedingly well taken. +A United States Senator from a Northern State is a guest in my +house for Reunion week. The Senator reads the editorials in the +<i>Post</i> with marked attention, has asked me the name of the +writer, and has commended some of his utterances most highly. The +Senator tells me that he never reads the editorials in his own +paper—a Boston paper, Mr. Hopkins, by the bye—his +reason being that they are never worth reading."</p> +<p>Mr. Shorter and Mr. Porter, fourth and fifth directors, were +much struck with Mr. Hickok's statement. They averred that they had +made a point of reading the <i>Post</i> editorials during the +Colonel's absence, with a view to sizing up the assistant, and had +been highly pleased with the character of his work.</p> +<p>Mr. Wilmerding, a sixth director, declared that the Colonel had, +in recent months, more than once remarked to him that the young man +was entirely qualified to be his successor. In fact, the Colonel +had once said that he meant to retire before a great while, and, of +course with the directors' approval, turn over the editorial helm +to the assistant. Therefore, he, Mr. Wilmerding, had pleasure in +nominating Mr. Queed for the position of editor of the +<i>Post</i>.</p> +<p>Mr. Shorter and Mr. Porter said that they had pleasure in +seconding this nomination.</p> +<p>Mr. Charles Gardiner West, a seventh director, was recognized +for a few remarks. Mr. West expressed his intense gratification +over what had been said in eulogy of Mr. Queed. This gratification, +some might argue, was not wholly disinterested, since it was Mr. +West who had discovered Mr. Queed and sent him to the <i>Post</i>. +To praise the able editor was therefore to praise the alert, +watchful, and discriminating director. (Smiles.) Seriously, Mr. +Queed's work, especially during the last few months, had been of +the highest order, and Mr. West, having worked beside him more than +once, ventured to say that he appreciated his valuable qualities +better than any other director. If the Colonel had but lived a year +or two longer, there could not, in his opinion, be the smallest +question as to what step the honorable directors should now take. +But as it was, Mr. West, as Mr. Queed's original sponsor on the +<i>Post</i>, felt it his duty to call attention to two things. The +first was the young man's extreme youth. The second was the fact +that he was a stranger to the State, having lived there less than +two years. At his present rate of progress, it was of course patent +to any observer that he was a potential editor of the <i>Post</i>, +and a great one. But might it not be, on the whole, +desirable—Mr. West merely suggested the idea in the most +tentative way, and wholly out of his sense of sponsorship for Mr. +Queed—to give him a little longer chance to grow and broaden +and learn, before throwing the highest responsibility and the final +honors upon him?</p> +<p>Mr. West's graceful and sensible remarks made a distinct +impression upon the directors, and Mr. Hopkins took occasion to say +that it was precisely such thoughts as these that had led him to +suggest looking abroad for a man. Mr. Shorter and Mr. Porter +asserted that they would deprecate doing anything that Mr. West, +with his closer knowledge of actual conditions, thought premature. +Mr. Boggs admitted that the ability to write editorials of the +first order was not all that should be required of the editor of +the <i>Post</i>. It might be doubtful, thought he, whether so young +a man could represent the <i>Post</i> properly on occasions of a +semi-public nature, or in emergency situations such as occasionally +arose in an editorial office.</p> +<p>Mr. Wilmerding inquired the young man's age, and upon being told +that he was under twenty-six, remarked that only very exceptional +abilities could counteract such youth as that.</p> +<p>"That," said Mr. Hickok, glancing cursorily at Charles Gardiner +West, "is exactly the sort of abilities Mr. Queed possesses."</p> +<p>Discussion flagged. The chairman asked if they were ready for a +vote upon Mr. Queed.</p> +<p>"No, no—let's take our time," said Mr. Wilmerding.</p> +<p>"Perhaps somebody has other nominations to offer."</p> +<p>No one seemed to have other nominations to offer. Some minutes +were consumed by random suggestions and unprogressive +recommendations. Busy directors began to look at their watches.</p> +<p>"Look here, Gard—I mean Mr. West," suddenly said young +Theodore Fyne, the baby of the board. "Why couldn't we persuade +<i>you</i> to take the editorship?... Resign from the college, you +know?"</p> +<p>"Now you <i>have</i> said something!" cried Mr. Hopkins, +enthusiastically.</p> +<p>Mr. West, by a word and a gesture, indicated that the suggestion +was preposterous and the conversation highly unwelcome.</p> +<p>But it was obvious that young Mr. Fyne's suggestion had caught +the directors at sight. Mr. Shorter and Mr. Porter affirmed that +they had not ventured to hope, etc., etc., but that if Mr. West +could be induced to consider the position, no choice would appear +to them so eminently—etc., etc. So said Mr. Boggs. So said +Messrs. Hopkins, Fyne, and Wilmerding.</p> +<p>Mr. Hickok, the director who resembled James E. Winter, looked +out of the window.</p> +<p>Mr. West, obviously restive under these tributes, was +constrained to state his position more fully. For more than one +reason which should be evident, he said, the mention of his name in +this connection was most embarrassing and distasteful to him. While +thanking the directors heartily for their evidences of good-will, +he therefore begged them to desist, and proceed with the discussion +of other candidates.</p> +<p>"In that case," said Mr. Hickok, "it appears to be the reluctant +duty of the nominator to withdraw Mr. West's name."</p> +<p>But the brilliant young man's name, once thrown into the arena, +could no more be withdrawn than the fisherman of legend could +restore the genie to the bottle, or Pandora get her pretty gifts +back into the box again. There was the idea, fairly out and vastly +alluring. The kindly directors pressed it home. No doubt they, as +well as Plonny Neal, appreciated that Blaines College did not give +the young man a fair field for his talents; and certainly they knew +with admiration the articles with which he sometimes adorned the +columns of their paper. Of all the directors, they now pointed out, +he had stood closest to Colonel Cowles, and was most familiar with +the traditions and policies of the <i>Post</i>. Their urgings +increased in force and persistence; perhaps they felt encouraged by +a certain want of finality in the young man's tone; and at length +West was compelled to make yet another statement.</p> +<p>He was, he explained, utterly disconcerted at the turn the +discussion had taken, and found the situation so embarrassing that +he must ask his friends, the directors, to extricate him from it at +once. The editorship of the <i>Post</i> was an office which he, +personally, had never aspired to, but it would be presumption for +him to deny that he regarded it as a post which would reflect honor +upon any one. He was willing to admit, in this confidential circle, +moreover, that he had taken up college work chiefly with the +ambition of assisting Blaines over a critical year or two in its +history, and that, to put it only generally, he was not +indefinitely bound to his present position. But under the present +circumstances, as he said, he could not consent to any discussion +of his name; and unless the directors would agree to drop him from +further consideration, which he earnestly preferred, he must +reluctantly suggest adjournment.</p> +<p>"An interregnum," said Mr. Hickok, looking out of the window, +"is an unsatisfactory, not to say a dangerous thing. Would it not +be better, since we are gathered for that purpose, to take decisive +action to-day?"</p> +<p>"What is your pleasure, gentlemen?" inquired Chairman Byrd.</p> +<p>Mr. Hickok was easily overruled. The directors seized eagerly on +Mr. West's suggestion. On motion of Mr. Hopkins, seconded by Mr. +Shorter and Mr. Porter, the meeting stood adjourned to the third +day following at noon.</p> +<p>On the second day following the <i>Post</i> carried the +interesting announcement that Mr. West had resigned from the +presidency of Blaines College, a bit of news which his friends read +with sincere pleasure. The account of the occurrence gave one to +understand that all Mr. West's well-known persuasiveness had been +needed to force the trustees to accept his resignation. And when +James E. Winter read this part of it, at his suburban breakfast, he +first laughed, and then swore. The same issue of the <i>Post</i> +carried an editorial, mentioning in rather a sketchy way the +benefits Mr. West had conferred upon Blaines College, and paying a +high and confident tribute to his qualities as a citizen. The young +acting-editor, who never wrote what he did not think, had taken +much pains with this editorial, especially the sketchy part. Of +course the pestiferous <i>Chronicle</i> took an entirely different +view of the situation. "The <i>Chronicle</i> has won its great +fight," so it nervily said, "against classism in Blaines College." +And it had the vicious taste to add: "Nothing in Mr. West's +presidential life became him like the leaving of it."</p> +<p>On the third day the directors met again. With characteristic +delicacy of feeling, West remained away from the meeting. However, +Mr. Hopkins, who seemed to know what he was talking about, at once +expressed his conviction that they might safely proceed to the +business which had brought them together.</p> +<p>"Perceiving clearly that I represent a minority view," said Mr. +Hickok, "I request the director who nominated Mr. Queed to withdraw +his name. I think it proper that our action should be unanimous. +But I will say, frankly, that if Mr. Queed's name remains before +the board, I shall vote for him, since I consider him from every +point of view the man for the position."</p> +<p>Mr. Queed's name having been duly withdrawn, the directors +unanimously elected Charles Gardiner West to the editorship of the +<i>Post</i>. By a special resolution introduced by Mr. Hopkins, +they thanked Mr. Queed for his able conduct of the editorial page +in the absence of the editor, and voted him an increased honorarium +of eighteen hundred dollars a year.</p> +<p>The directors adjourned, and Mr. Hickok stalked out, looking +more like James E. Winter than ever. The other directors, however, +looked highly gratified at themselves. They went out heartily +congratulating each other. By clever work they had secured for +their paper the services of one of the ablest, most gifted, most +polished and popular young men in the State. Nevertheless, though +they never knew it, their action was decidedly displeasing to at +least one faithful reader of the <i>Post</i>, to wit, Miss +Charlotte Lee Weyland, of the Department of Charities. Sharlee felt +strongly that Mr. Queed should have had the editorship, then and +there. It might be said that she had trained him up for exactly +that position. Of course, Mr. West, her very good friend, would +make an editor of the first order. But, with all the flocks that +roamed upon his horizon, ought he to have reached out and plucked +the one ewe lamb of the poor assistant? Besides, she thought that +Mr. West ought to have remained at Blaines College.</p> +<p>But how could she maintain this attitude of criticism when the +new editor himself, bursting in upon her little parlor in a golden +nimbus of optimism, radiant good humor and success, showed up the +shallowness and the injustice of it?</p> +<p>"To have that college off my neck—Whew! I'm as happy, my +friend, as a schoolboy on the first day of vacation. I haven't +talked much about it to you," continued Mr. West, "for it's a bore +to listen to other people's troubles—but that college had +become a perfect old man of the sea! The relief is glorious! I'm +bursting with energy and enthusiasm and big plans for the +<i>Post</i>."</p> +<p>"And Mr. Queed?" said Sharlee. "Was he much disappointed?"</p> +<p>West was a little surprised at the question, but he gathered +from her tone that she thought Mr. Queed had some right to be.</p> +<p>"Why, I think not," he answered, decisively. "Why in the world +should he be? Of course it means only a delay of a year or two for +him, at the most. I betray no confidence when I tell you that I do +not expect to remain editor of the <i>Post</i> forever."</p> +<p>Sharlee appeared struck by this summary of the situation, which, +to tell the truth, had never occurred to her. Therefore, West went +on to sketch it more in detail to her.</p> +<p>"The last thing in the world that I would do," said he, "is to +stand in that boy's light. My one wish is to push him to the front +just as fast as he can stride. Why, I discovered Queed—you +and I did, that is—and I think I may claim to have done +something toward training him. To speak quite frankly, the +situation was this: In spite of his great abilities, he is still +very young and inexperienced. Give him a couple of years in which +to grow and broaden and get his bearings more fully, and he will be +the very best man in sight for the place. On the other hand, if he +were thrust prematurely into great responsibility, he would be +almost certain to make some serious error, some fatal break, which +would impair his usefulness, and perhaps ruin it forever. Do you +see my point? As his sponsor on the <i>Post</i>, it seemed to me +unwise and unfair to expose him to the risks of forcing his pace. +That's the whole story. I'm not the king at all. I'm only the +regent during the king's minority."</p> +<p>Sharlee now saw how unjust she had been, to listen to the small +whisper of doubt of West's entire magnanimity.</p> +<p>"You are much wiser and farther-sighted than I."</p> +<p>"Perish the thought!"</p> +<p>"I'm glad my little Doctor—only he isn't either little or +very much of a doctor any more—has such a good friend at +court."</p> +<p>"Nonsense. It was only what anybody who stopped to think a +moment would have done."</p> +<p>"Not everybody who stops to think is so generous...."</p> +<p>This thought, too, Mr. West abolished by a word.</p> +<p>"But you will like the work, won't you!" continued Sharlee, +still self-reproachful. "I do hope you will."</p> +<p>"I shall like it immensely," said West, above pretending, as +some regents would have done, that he was martyring himself for his +friend, the king. "Where can you find any bigger or nobler work? At +Blaines College of blessed memory, the best I could hope for was to +reach and influence a handful of lumpish boys. How tremendously +broader is the opportunity on the <i>Post!</i> Think of having a +following of a hundred thousand readers a day! (You allow three or +four readers to a copy, you know.) Think of talking every morning +to such an audience as that, preaching progress and high ideals, +courage and honesty and kindness and faith—moulding their +opinions and beliefs, their ambitions, their very habits of +thought, as I think they ought to be moulded ..."</p> +<p>He talked in about this vein till eleven o'clock, and Sharlee +listened with sincere admiration. Nevertheless, he left her still +troubled by a faint doubt as to how Mr. Queed himself felt about +what had been done for his larger good. But when she next saw +Queed, only a few days later, this doubt instantly dissolved and +vanished. She had never seen him less inclined to indict the world +and his fortune.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Queed sits on the Steps with Sharlee, and sees Some Old +Soldiers go marching by.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Far as the eye could see, either way, the street was two +parallels of packed humanity. Both sidewalks, up and down, were +loaded to capacity and spilling off surplus down the side-streets. +Navigation was next to impossible; as for crossing you were a +madman to think of such a thing. At the sidewalks' edge policemen +patrolled up and down in the street with their incessant cry of +"Back there!"—pausing now and then to dislodge small boys +from trees, whither they had climbed at enormous peril to +themselves and innocent by-standers. Bunting, flags, streamers were +everywhere; now and then a floral arch bearing words of welcome +spanned the roadway; circus day in a small town was not a dot upon +the atmosphere of thrilled expectancy so all-pervasive here. It +was, in fact, the crowning occasion of the Confederate Reunion, and +the fading remnants of Lee's armies were about to pass in annual +parade and review.</p> +<p>Mrs. Weyland's house stood full on the line of march. It was the +house she had come to as a bride; she owned it; and because it +could not easily be converted over her head into negotiable funds, +it had escaped the predacious clutches of Henry G. Surface. After +the crash, it would doubtless have been sensible to sell it and +take something cheaper; but sentiment made her cling to this house, +and her daughter, in time, went to work to uphold sentiment's +hands. It was not a large house, or a fine one, but it did have a +very comfortable little porch. To-day this porch was beautifully +decorated, like the whole town, with the colors of two countries, +one living and one dead; and the decorations for the dead were +three times greater than the decorations for the living. And why +not? Yet, at that, Sharlee was liberal-minded and a thorough-going +nationalist. On some houses, the decorations for the dead were five +times greater, like Benjamin's mess; on others, ten times; on yet +others, no colors at all floated but the beloved Stars and +Bars.</p> +<p>Upon the steps of Mrs. Weyland's porch sat Mr. Queed, come by +special invitation of Mrs. Weyland's daughter to witness the +parade.</p> +<p>The porch, being so convenient for seeing things, was hospitably +taxed to its limits. New people kept turning in at the gate, mostly +ladies, mostly white-haired ladies wearing black, and Sharlee was +incessantly springing up to greet them. However, Queed, feeling +that the proceedings might be instructive to him, had had the +foresight to come early, before the sidewalks solidified with +spectators; and at first, and spasmodically thereafter, he had some +talk with Sharlee.</p> +<p>"So you didn't forget?" she said, in greeting him.</p> +<p>He eyed her reflectively. "When I was seven years old," he +began, "Tim once asked me to attend to something for him while he +went out for a minute. It was to mind some bacon that he had put on +to broil for supper. I became absorbed in a book I was reading, and +Tim came back to find the bacon a crisp. I believe I have never +forgotten anything from that day to this. You have a holiday at the +Department?"</p> +<p>"Why, do you suppose we'd work to-day!" said Sharlee, and +introduced him to her mother, who, having attentively overheard his +story of Tim and the bacon, proceeded to look him over with some +care.</p> +<p>Sharlee left them for a moment, and came back bearing a flag +about the size of a man's visiting card.</p> +<p>"You are one of us, aren't you? I have brought you," she said, +"your colors."</p> +<p>Queed looked and recognized the flag that was everywhere in +predominance that day. "And what will it mean if I wear it?"</p> +<p>"Only," said Sharlee, "that you love the South."</p> +<p>Vaguely Queed saw in her blue-spar eyes the same kind of +softness that he noticed in people's voices this afternoon, a +softness which somehow reminded him of a funeral, Fifi's or Colonel +Cowles's.</p> +<p>"Oh, very well, if you like."</p> +<p>Sharlee put the flag in his buttonhole under her mother's +watchful gaze. Then she got cushions and straw-mats, and explained +their uses in connection with steps. Next, she gave a practical +demonstration of the same by seating the young man, and sitting +down beside him.</p> +<p>"One thing I have noticed about loving the South. Everybody does +it, who takes the trouble to know us. Look at the +people!—millions and millions...."</p> +<p>"Colonel Cowles would have liked this."</p> +<p>"Yes—dear old man." Sharlee paused a moment, and then went +on. "He was in the parade last year—on the beautifullest +black horse—You never saw anything so handsome as he looked +that day. It was in Savannah, and I went. I was a maid of honor, +but my real duties were to keep him from marching around in the hot +sun all day. And now this year ... You see, that is what makes it +so sad. When these old men go tramping by, everybody is thinking: +'Hundreds of them won't be here next year, and hundreds more the +next year, and soon will come a year when there won't be any parade +at all."</p> +<p>She sprang up to welcome a new arrival, whom she greeted as +either Aunt Mary or Cousin Maria, we really cannot undertake to say +which.</p> +<p>Queed glanced over the group on the porch, to most of whom he +had been introduced, superfluously, as it seemed to him. There must +have been twenty or twenty-five of them; some seated, some standing +at the rail, some sitting near him on the steps; but all, +regardless of age and sex, wearing the Confederate colors. He +noticed particularly the white-haired old ladies, and somehow their +faces, also, put him in mind of Fifi's or Colonel Cowles's +funeral.</p> +<p>Sharlee came and sat down by him again. "Mr. Queed," said she, +"I don't know whether you expect sympathy about what the +<i>Post</i> directors did, or congratulations."</p> +<p>"Oh, congratulations," he answered at once. "Considering that +they wanted to discharge me a year ago, I should say that the +testimonial they gave me represented a rather large change of +front."</p> +<p>"Personally, I think it is splendid. But the important thing is: +does it satisfy <i>you?</i>"</p> +<p>"Oh, quite." He added: "If they had gone outside for a man, I +might have felt slighted. It is very different with a man like +West. I am perfectly willing to wait. You may remember that I did +not promise to be editor in any particular year."</p> +<p>"I know. And when they do elect you—you see I say when, +and not if—shall you pitch it in their faces, as you +said?"</p> +<p>"No—I have decided to keep it—for a time at any +rate."</p> +<p>Sharlee smiled, but it was an inward smile and he never knew +anything about it. "Have you gotten really interested in the +work—personally interested, I mean?"</p> +<p>He hesitated. "I hardly like to say how much."</p> +<p>"The more you become interested in it—and I believe it +will be progressive—the less you will mind saying so."</p> +<p>"It is a strange interest—utterly unlike me—"</p> +<p>"How do you know it isn't more like you than anything you ever +did in your life?"</p> +<p>That struck him to silence; he gave her a quick inquiring +glance, and looked away at once; and Sharlee, for the moment +entirely oblivious of the noise and the throng all about her, went +on.</p> +<p>"I called that a magnificent boast once—about your being +editor of the <i>Post</i>. Do you remember? Isn't it time I was +confessing that you have got the better of me?"</p> +<p>"I think it is too soon," he answered, in his quietest voice, +"to say whether I have got the better of you, or you have got the +better of me."</p> +<p>Sharlee looked off down the street. "But you certainly will be +editor of the <i>Post</i> some day."</p> +<p>"As I recall it, we did not speak only of editorial writing that +night."</p> +<p>"Oh, listen ...!"</p> +<p>From far away floated the strains of "Dixie," crashed out by +forty bands. The crowd on the sidewalks stirred; prolonged shouts +went up; and now all those who were seated on the porch arose at +one motion and came forward.</p> +<p>Sharlee had to spring up to greet still another relative. She +came back in a moment, sincerely hoping that Mr. Queed would resume +the conversation which her exclamation had interrupted. But he +spoke of quite a different matter, a faint cloud on his intelligent +brow.</p> +<p>"You should hear Professor Nicolovius on these veterans of +yours."</p> +<p>"What does he say about them? Something hateful, I'm sure."</p> +<p>"Among other things, that they are a lot of professional beggars +who have lived for forty years on their gray uniforms, and can best +serve their country by dying with all possible speed. Do you know," +he mused, "if you could hear him, I believe you would be tempted to +guess that he is a former Union officer—who got into trouble, +perhaps, and was cashiered."</p> +<p>"But of course you know all about him?"</p> +<p>"No," said he, honest, but looking rather annoyed at having +given her such an opening, "I know only what he told me."</p> +<p>"Sharlee," came her mother's voice from the rear, "are you +sitting on the cold stone?"</p> +<p>"No, mother. Two mats and a cushion."</p> +<p>"Well, he is not a Union officer," said Sharlee to Queed, "for +if he were, he would not be bitter. All the bitterness nowadays +comes from the non-combatants, the camp-followers, the sutlers, and +the cowards. Look, Mr. Queed! <i>Look!</i>"</p> +<p>The street had become a tumult, the shouting grew into a roar. +Two squares away the head of the parade swept into view, and drew +steadily nearer. Mr. Queed looked, and felt a thrill in despite of +himself.</p> +<p>At the head of the column came the escort, with the three +regimental bands, mounted and bicycle police, city officials, +visiting military, sons of veterans, and the militia, including the +resplendent Light Infantry Blues of Richmond, a crack drill +regiment with an honorable history dating from 1789, and the +handsomest uniforms ever seen. Behind the escort rode the honored +commander-in-chief of the veterans, and staff, the grand marshal +and staff, and a detachment of mounted veterans. The general +commanding rode a dashing white horse, which he sat superbly +despite his years, and received an ovation all along the line. An +even greater ovation went to two festooned carriages which rolled +behind the general staff: they contained four black-clad women, no +longer young, who bore names that had been dear to the hearts of +the Confederacy. After these came the veterans afoot, stepping like +youngsters, for that was their pride, in faded equipments which +contrasted sharply with the shining trappings of the militia. They +marched by state divisions, each division marshaled into brigades, +each brigade subdivided again into camps. At the head of each +division rode the major-general and staff, and behind each staff +came a carriage containing the state's sponsor and maids of honor. +And everywhere there were bands, bands playing "Dixie," and the +effect would have been even more glorious, if only any two of them +had played the same part of it at the same time.</p> +<p>Everybody was standing. It is doubtful if in all the city there +was anybody sitting now, save those restrained by physical +disabilities. Conversation on the Weyland piazza became exceedingly +disjointed. Everybody was excitedly calling everybody else's +attention to things that seemed particularly important in the +passing spectacle. To Queed the amount these people appeared to +know about it all was amazing. All during the afternoon he heard +Sharlee identifying fragments of regiments with a sureness of +knowledge that he, an authority on knowledge, marveled at.</p> +<p>The escort passed, and the officers and staffs drew on. The +fine-figured old commander-in-chief, when he came abreast, turned +and looked full at the Weyland piazza, seemed to search it for a +face, and swept his plumed hat to his stirrup in a profound bow. +The salute was greeted on the porch with a burst of hand-clapping +and a great waving of flags.</p> +<p>"That was for my grandmother. He was in love with her in 1850," +said Sharlee to Queed, and immediately whisked away to tell +something else to somebody else.</p> +<p>One of the first groups of veterans in the line, heading the +Virginia Division, was the popular R.E. Lee Camp of Richmond. All +afternoon they trod to the continual accompaniment of cheers. No +exclusive "show" company ever marched in better time than these +septuagenarians, and this was everywhere the subject of comment. A +Grand Army man stood in the press on the sidewalk, and, struck by +the gallant step of the old fellows, yelled out +good-naturedly:—</p> +<p>"You boys been drillin' to learn to march like that, haven't +you?"</p> +<p>Instantly a white-beard in the ranks called back: "No, sir! +<i>We never have forgot!</i>"</p> +<p>Other camps were not so rhythmic in their tread. Some of the +lines were very dragging and straggly; the old feet shuffled and +faltered in a way which showed that their march was nearly over. +Not fifty yards away from Queed, one veteran pitched out of the +ranks; he was lifted up and received into the house opposite which +he fell. Sadder than the men were the old battle-flags, soiled +wisps that the aged hands held aloft with the most solicitous care. +The flag-poles were heavy and the men's arms weaker than once they +were; sometimes two or even three men acted jointly as +standard-bearer.</p> +<p>These old flags, mere unrecognizable fragments as many of them +were, were popular with the onlookers. Each as it marched by, was +halled with a new roar. Of course there were many tears. There was +hardly anybody in all that crowd, over fifty years old, in whom the +sight of these fast dwindling ranks did not stir memories of some +personal bereavement. The old ladies on the porch no longer used +their handkerchiefs chiefly for waving. Queed saw one of them wave +hers frantically toward a drooping little knot of passing +gray-coats, and then fall back into a chair, the same handkerchief +at her eyes. Sharlee, who was explaining everything that anybody +wanted to know, happened to be standing near him; she followed his +glance and whispered gently:—</p> +<p>"Her husband and two of her brothers were killed at Gettysburg. +Her husband was in Pickett's Division. Those were Pickett's men +that just passed—about all there are left now."</p> +<p>A little while afterwards, she added: "It is not so gay as one +of your Grand Army Days, is it? You see ... it all comes home very +close to us. Those old men that can't be with us much longer are +our mothers' brothers, and sweethearts, and uncles, and fathers. +They went out so young—so brave and full of hope—they +poured out by hundreds of thousands. Down this very street they +marched, no more than boys, and our mothers stood here where we are +standing, to bid them godspeed. And now look at what is left of +them, straggling by. There is nobody on this porch—but +you—who did not lose somebody that was dear to them. And then +there was our pride ... for we were proud. So that is why our old +ladies cry to-day."</p> +<p>"And why your young ladies cry, too?"</p> +<p>"Oh, ... I am not crying."</p> +<p>"Don't you suppose I know when people are crying and when they +aren't?—Why do you do it?"</p> +<p>Sharlee lowered her eyes. "Well ... it's all pretty sad, you +know ... pretty sad."</p> +<p>She turned away, leaving him to his own devices. From his place +on the top step, Queed turned and let his frank glance run over the +ladies on the porch. The sadness of face that he had noticed +earlier had dissolved and precipitated now: there was hardly a dry +eye on that porch but his own. What were they all crying for? Miss +Weyland's explanation did not seem very convincing. The war had +ended a generation ago. The whole thing had been over and done with +many years before she was born.</p> +<p>He turned again, and looked out with unseeing eyes over the +thick street, with the thin strip of parade moving down the middle +of it. He guessed that these ladies on the porch were not crying +for definite brothers, or fathers, or sweethearts they had lost. +People didn't do that after forty years; here was Fifi only dead a +year, and he never saw anybody crying for her. No, they were +weeping over an idea; it was sentiment, and a vague, misty, +unreasonable sentiment at that. And yet he could not say that Miss +Weyland appeared simply foolish with those tears in her eyes. No, +the girl somehow managed to give the effect of seeing farther into +things than he himself.... Her tears evidently were in the nature +of a tribute: she was paying them to an idea. Doubtless there was a +certain largeness about that. But obviously the paying of such a +tribute could do no possible good—unless—to the payer. +Was there anything in that?—in the theory....</p> +<p>Unusual bursts of cheering broke their way into his +consciousness, and he recalled himself to see a squad of negro +soldiers, all very old men, hobbling by. These were of the +faithful, whom no number of proclamations could shake from +allegiance to Old Marster. One of them declared himself to be +Stonewall Jackson's cook. Very likely Stonewall Jackson's cooks are +as numerous as once were ladies who had been kissed by LaFayette, +but at any rate this old negro was the object of lively interest +all along the line. He was covered with reunion badges, and carried +two live chickens under his arm.</p> +<p>Queed went down to the bottom step, the better to hear the +comments of the onlookers, for this was what interested him most. +He found himself standing next to an exceptionally clean-cut young +fellow of about his own age. This youth appeared a fine specimen of +the sane, wholesome, successful young American business man. Yet he +was behaving like a madman, yelling like Bedlam, wildly flaunting +his hat—a splendid-looking Panama—now and then savagely +brandishing his fists at an unseen foe. Queed heard him saying +fiercely, apparently to the world at large: "They couldn't lick us +now. By the Lord, they couldn't lick us now!"</p> +<p>Queed said to him: "You were badly outnumbered when they licked +you."</p> +<p>Flaunting his hat passionately at the thin columns, the young +man shouted into space: +"Outnumbered—outarmed—outequipped—outrationed—but +not outgeneraled, sir, not outsoldiered, not outmanned!"</p> +<p>"You seem a little excited about it. Yet you've had forty years +to get used to it."</p> +<p>"Ah," brandished the young man at the soldiers, a glad +battlenote breaking into his voice, "I'm being addressed by a +Yankee, am I?"</p> +<p>"No," said Queed, "you are being addressed by an American."</p> +<p>"That's a fair reply," said the young man; and consented to take +his eyes from the parade a second to glance at the author of it. +"Hello! You're Doc—Mr. Queed, aren't you?"</p> +<p>Queed, surprised, admitted his identity.</p> +<p>"Ye-a-a-a!" said the young man, in a mighty voice. This time he +shouted it directly at a tall old gentleman whose horse was just +then dancing by. The gentleman smiled, and waved his hand at the +flaunted Panama.</p> +<p>"A fine-looking man," said Queed.</p> +<p>"My father," said the young man. "God bless his heart!"</p> +<p>"Was your father in the war?"</p> +<p>"Was he in the war? My dear sir, you might say that he was the +war. But you could scrape this town with a fine-tooth comb without +finding anybody of his age that wasn't in the war."</p> +<p>The necessity for a new demonstration checked his speech for a +moment.</p> +<p>Queed said: "Who are these veterans? What sort of people are +they?"</p> +<p>"The finest fellows in the world," said the young man. "An +occasional dead-beat among them, of course, but it's amazing how +high an average of character they strike, considering that they +came out of four years of war—war's demoralizing, you +know!—with only their shirts to their backs, and often those +were only borrowed. You'll find some mighty solid business men in +the ranks out there, and then on down to the humblest occupations. +Look! See that little one-legged man with the beard that +everybody's cheering! That's Corporal Henkel of Petersburg, +commended I don't know how many times for bravery, and they would +have given him the town for a keepsake when it was all over, if he +had wanted it. Well, Henkel's a cobbler—been one since +'65—and let me tell you he's a blamed good one, and if you're +ever in Petersburg and want any half-soling done, let me tell +you—Yea-a-a! See that trim-looking one with the little +mustache—saluting now? He tried to save Stonewall Jackson's +life on the 2d of May, 1863,—threw himself in front of him +and got badly potted. He's a D.D. now. Yea-a-a-a!"</p> +<p>A victoria containing two lovely young girls, sponsor and maid +of honor for South Carolina, dressed just alike, with parasols and +enormous hats, rolled by. The girls smiled kindly at the young man, +and he went through a very proper salute.</p> +<p>"Watch the people!" he dashed on eagerly. "Wonderful how they +love these old soldiers, isn't it?—they'd give 'em anything! +And what a fine thing that is for them!—for the people, not +the soldiers, I mean. I tell you we all give too much time to +practical things—business—making money—taking +things away from each other. It's a fine thing to have a day now +and then which appeals to just the other side of us—a regular +sentimental spree. Do you see what I mean? Maybe I'm talking like +an ass.... But when you talk about Americans, Mr. Queed—let +me tell you that there isn't a State in the country that is raising +better Americans than we are raising right here in this city. We're +as solid for the Union as Boston. But that isn't saying that we +have forgotten all about the biggest happening in our +history—the thing that threw over our civilization, wiped out +our property, and turned our State into a graveyard. If we forgot +that, we wouldn't be Americans, because we wouldn't be men."</p> +<p>He went on fragmentarily, ever and anon interrupting himself to +give individual ovations to his heroes and his gods:—</p> +<p>"Through the North and West you may have one old soldier to a +village; here we have one to a house. For you it was a foreign war, +which meant only dispatches in the newspapers. For us it was a war +on our own front lawns, and the way we followed it was by the +hearses backing up to the door. You can hardly walk a mile in any +direction out of this city without stumbling upon an old +breastworks. And in the city—well, you know all the great old +landmarks, all around us as we stand here now. On this porch behind +us sits a lady who knew Lee well. Many's the talk she had with him +after the war. My mother, a bride then, sat in the pew behind Davis +that Sunday he got the message which meant that the war was over. +History! Why this old town drips with it. Do you think we should +forget our heroes, Mr. Queed? Up there in Massachusetts, if you +have a place where John Samuel Quincy Adams once stopped for a cup +of tea, you fence it off, put a brass plate on the front door, and +charge a nickel to go in. Which will history say is the greater +man, Sam Adams or Robert F. Lee? If these were Washington's armies +going by, you would probably feel a little excited, though you have +had a hundred and twenty years to get used to Yorktown and the +Philadelphia Congress. Well, Washington is no more to the nation +than Lee is to the South.</p> +<p>"But don't let anybody get concerned about our patriotism. We're +better Americans, not worse, because of days like these, the reason +being, as I say, that we are better men. And if your old Uncle +Sammy gets into trouble some day, never fear but we'll be on hand +to pull him out, with the best troops that ever stepped, and +another Lee to lead them."</p> +<p>Somewhere during the afternoon there had returned to Queed the +words in which Sharlee Weyland had pointed out to him—quite +unnecessarily—that he was standing here between two +civilizations. On the porch now sat Miss Weyland's grandmother, +representative of the dead aristocracy. By his side stood, clearly, +a representative of the rising democracy—one of those +"splendid young men" who, the girl thought, would soon be beating +the young men of the North at every turn. It was valuable +professionally to catch the point of view of these new democrats; +and now he had grasped the fact that whatever the changes in +outward form, it had an unbroken sentimental continuity with the +type which it was replacing.</p> +<p>"Did you ever hear Ben Hill's tribute to Lee?" inquired the +young man presently.</p> +<p>Queed happened to know it very well. However, the other could +not be restrained from reciting it for his own satisfaction.</p> +<p>"It is good—a good piece of writing and a fine tribute," +said Queed. "However, I read a shorter and in some ways an even +better one in <i>Harper's Weekly</i> the other day."</p> +<p>"<i>Harper's Weekly!</i> Good Heavens! They'll find out that +William Lloyd Garrison was for us next. What'd it say?"</p> +<p>"It was in answer to some correspondents who called Lee a +traitor. The editor wrote five lines to say that, while it would be +exceedingly difficult ever to make 'traitor' a word of honorable +distinction, it would be done if people kept on applying it to Lee. +In that case, he said, we should have to find a new word to mean +what traitor means now."</p> +<p>The young man thought this over until its full meaning sank into +him. "I don't know how you could say anything finer of a man," he +remarked presently, "than that applying a disgraceful epithet to +him left him entirely untouched, but changed the whole meaning of +the epithet. By George, that's pretty fine!"</p> +<p>"My only criticism on the character, or rather on the greatness, +of Lee," said Queed, introspectively, "is that, so far as I have +ever read, he never got angry. One feels that a hero should be a +man of terrible passions, so strong that once or twice in his life +they get away from him. Washington always seems a bigger man +because of his blast at Charles Lee."</p> +<p>The young man seemed interested by this point of view. He said +that he would ask Mrs. Beauregard about it.</p> +<p>Not much later he said with a sigh: "Well!—It's about +over. And now I must pay for my fun—duck back to the office +for a special night session."</p> +<p>Queed had taken a vague fancy to this youth, whose enviably +pleasant manners reminded him somehow of Charles Gardiner West. "I +supposed that it was only in newspaper offices that work went on +without regard to holidays."</p> +<p>The young man laughed, and held out his hand. "I'm very +industrious, if you please. I'm delighted to have met you, Mr. +Queed—I've known of you for a long time. My name's +Byrd—Beverley Byrd—and I wish you'd come and see me +some time. Good-by. I hope I haven't bored you with all my +war-talk. I lost a grandfather and three uncles in it, and I can't +help being interested."</p> +<p>The last of the parade went by; the dense crowd broke and +overran the street; and Queed stood upon the bottom step taking his +leave of Miss Weyland. Much interested, he had lingered till the +other guests were gone; and now there was nobody upon the porch but +Miss Weyland's mother and grandmother, who sat at the further end +of it, the eyes of both, did Mr. Queed but know it, upon him.</p> +<p>"Why don't you come to see me sometimes?" the daughter and +granddaughter was saying sweetly. "I think you will have to come +now, for this was a party, and a party calls for a party-call. Oh, +can you make as clever a pun as that?"</p> +<p>"Thank you—but I never pay calls."</p> +<p>"Oh, but you are beginning to do a good many things that you +never did before."</p> +<p>"Yes," he answered with curious depression. "I am."</p> +<p>"Well, don't look so glum about it. You mustn't think that any +change in your ways of doing is necessarily for the worse!"</p> +<p>He refused to take up the cudgels; an uncanny thing from him. +"Well! I am obliged to you for inviting me here to-day. It has been +interesting and—instructive."</p> +<p>"And now you have got us all neatly docketed on your +sociological operating table, I suppose?"</p> +<p>"I am inclined to think," he said slowly, "that it is you who +have got me on the operating table again."</p> +<p>He gave her a quick glance, at once the unhappiest and the most +human look that she had ever seen upon his face.</p> +<p>"No," said she, gently,—"if you are on the table, you have +put yourself there this time."</p> +<p>"Well, good-by—"</p> +<p>"And are you coming to see me—to pay your party-call?"</p> +<p>"Why should I? What is the point of these +conventions—these little rules—?"</p> +<p>"Don't you <i>like</i> being with me? Don't you get a <i>great +deal</i> of pleasure from my society?"</p> +<p>"I have never asked myself such a question."</p> +<p>He was gazing at her for a third time; and a startled look +sprang suddenly into his eyes. It was plain that he was asking +himself such a question now. A curious change passed over his face; +a kind of dawning consciousness which, it was obvious, embarrassed +him to the point of torture, while he resolutely declined to flinch +at it.</p> +<p>"Yes—I get pleasure from your society."</p> +<p>The admission turned him rather white, but he saved himself by +instantly flinging at her: "However, <i>I am no hedonist</i>."</p> +<p>Sharlee retired to look up hedonist in the dictionary.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Later that evening, Mrs. Weyland and her daughter being together +upstairs, the former said:—</p> +<p>"Sharlee, who is this Mr. Queed that you paid so much attention +to on the porch this evening?"</p> +<p>"Why, don't you know, mother? He is the assistant editor of the +<i>Post</i>, and is going to be editor just the minute Mr. West +retires. For you see, mother, everybody says that he writes the +most wonderful articles, although I assure you, a year +ago—"</p> +<p>"Yes, but who is he? Where does he come from? Who are his +people?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I see. That is what you mean. Well, he comes from New York, +where he led the most interesting literary sort of life, studying +all the time, except when he was doing articles for the great +reviews, or helping a lady up there to write a thesaurus. You see, +he was fitting himself to compose a great work—"</p> +<p>"Who are his people?"</p> +<p>"Oh, that!" said Sharlee. "Well, that question is not so easy to +answer as you might think. It opens up a peculiar situation: to +begin with, he is a sort of an orphan, and—"</p> +<p>"How do you mean, a sort of an orphan?"</p> +<p>"You see, that is just where the peculiar part comes in. There +is the heart of the whole mystery, and yet right there is the place +where I must be reticent with you, mother, for though I know all +about it, it was told to me confidentially—professionally, as +my aunt's agent—and therefore—"</p> +<p>"Do you mean that you know nothing about his people?"</p> +<p>"I suppose it might be stated, crudely, in that way, +but—"</p> +<p>"And knowing nothing about who or what he was, you simply picked +him up at the boarding-house, and admitted him to your +friendship?"</p> +<p>"Picking-up is not the word that the most careful mothers +employ, in reference to their daughters' attitude toward young men. +Mother, don't you understand? I'm a democrat."</p> +<p>"It is not a thing," said Mrs. Weyland, with some asperity, "for +a lady to be."</p> +<p>Sharlee, fixing her hair in the back before the mirror, laughed +long and merrily. "Do you dare—do you <i>dare</i> look your +own daughter in the eye and say she is no lady?"</p> +<p>"Do you like this young man?" Mrs. Weyland continued.</p> +<p>"He interests me, heaps and heaps."</p> +<p>Mrs. Weyland sighed. "I can only say," she observed, sinking +into a chair and picking up her book, "that such goings on were +never heard of in my day."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>In which Professor Nicolovius drops a Letter on the Floor, +and Queed conjectures that Happiness sometimes comes to Men wearing +a Strange Face.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Queed sat alone in the sitting-room of the Duke of Gloucester +Street house. His afternoon's experiences had interested him +largely. By subtle and occult processes which defied his analysis, +what he had seen and heard had proved mysteriously +disturbing—all this outpouring of irrational sentiment in +which he had no share. So had his conversation with the girl +disturbed him. He was in a condition of mental unrest, undefined +but acute; odds and ends of curious thought kicked about within +him, challenging him to follow them down to unexplored depths. But +he was paying no attention to them now.</p> +<p>He sat in the sitting-room, wondering how Nicolovius had ever +happened to think of that story about the Fenian refugee.</p> +<p>For Queed had been gradually driven to that unpleasant point. +While living in the old man's house, he was, despite his +conscientious efforts, virtually spying upon him.</p> +<p>The Fenian story had always had its questionable points; but so +long as the two men were merely chance fellow-boarders, it did as +well as any other. Now that they lived together, however, the +multiplying suggestions that the old professor was something far +other than he pretended became rather important. The young man +could not help being aware that Nicolovius neither looked nor +talked in the slightest degree like an Irishman. He could not help +being certain that an Irishman who had fled to escape punishment +for a political crime, in 1882, could have safely returned to his +country long ago; and would undoubtedly have kept up relations with +his friends overseas in the meantime. Nor could he help being +struck with such facts as that Nicolovius, while apparently little +interested in the occasional cables about Irish affairs, had become +seemingly absorbed in the three days' doings of the United +Confederate Veterans.</p> +<p>Now it was entirely all right for the old man to have a secret, +and keep it. There was not the smallest quarrel on that score. But +it was not in the least all right for one man to live with another, +pretending to believe in him, when in reality he was doubting and +questioning him at every move. The want of candor involved in his +present relations with Nicolovius continually fretted Queed's +conscience. Ought he not in common honesty to tell the old man that +he could not believe the Irish biography, leaving it to him to +decide what he wanted to do about it?</p> +<p>Nicolovius, tramping in only a few minutes behind Queed, greeted +his young friend as blandly as ever. Physically, he seemed tired; +much dust of city streets clung to his commonly spotless boots; but +his eyes were so extraordinarily brilliant that Queed at first +wondered if he could have been drinking. However, this thought died +almost as soon as it was born.</p> +<p>The professor walked over to the window and stood looking out, +hat on head. Presently he said: "You saw the grand parade, I +suppose? For indeed there was no escaping it."</p> +<p>Queed said that he had seen it.</p> +<p>"You had a good place to see it from, I hope?"</p> +<p>Excellent; Miss Weyland's porch.</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Nicolovius, with rather an emphasis, and permitted a +pause to fall. "A most charming young lady—charming," he went +on, with his note of velvet irony which the young man peculiarly +disliked. "I hear she is to marry your Mr. West. An eminently +suitable match in every way. Yet I shall not soon forget how that +delightful young man defrauded you of the editorship."</p> +<p>Silence from Mr. Queed, the question of the editorship having +already been thoroughly threshed out between them.</p> +<p>"I, too, saw the gallant proceedings," resumed Nicolovius, +retracing his thought. "What an outfit! What an outfit!"</p> +<p>He dropped down into his easy chair by the table, removed his +straw hat with traces of a rare irritation in his manner, put on +his black skull cap, and presently purred his thoughts +aloud:—</p> +<p>"No writer has yet done anything like justice to the old soldier +cult in the post-bellum South. Doubtless it may lie out of the +province of you historians, but what a theme for a new Thackeray! +With such a fetish your priestcraft of the Middle Ages is not to be +compared for a moment. There is no parallel among civilized +nations; to find one you must go to the Voodooism of the savage +black. For more than a generation all the intelligence of the South +has been asked, nay compelled, to come and bow down before these +alms-begging loblollies. To refuse to make obeisance was treason. +The entire public thought of a vast section of the country has +revolved around the figure of a worthless old grafter in a tattered +gray shirt. Every question is settled when some moth-eaten +ne'er-do-well lets out what is known as a 'rebel yell.' The most +polished and profound speech conceivable is answered when a jackass +mounts the platform and brays out something about the gallant boys +in gray. The cry for progress, for material advancement, for moral +and social betterment, is stifled, that everybody may have breath +to shout for a flapping trouser's leg worn by a degraded old sot. +All that your Southern statesmen have had to give a people who were +stripped to the bone is fulsome rhetoric about the Wounded Warrior +of Wahoo, or some other inflated nonentity, whereupon the +mesmerized population have loyally fallen on their faces and +shouted, 'Praise the Lord.' And all the while they were going +through this wretched mummery, they were hungry and thirsty and +naked—destitute in a smiling land of plenty. Do you wonder +that I think old-soldierism is the meanest profession the Lord ever +suffered to thrive? I tell you Baal and Moloch never took such toll +of their idolaters as these shabby old gods of the gray shirt."</p> +<p>"Professor Nicolovius," said Queed, with a slow smile, "where on +earth do you exhume your ideas of Southern history?"</p> +<p>"Observation, my dear boy! God bless us, haven't I had three +years of this city to use my eyes and ears in? And I had a peculiar +training in my youth," he added, retrospectively, "to fit me to see +straight and generalize accurately."</p> +<p>... Couldn't the man see that no persecuted Irishman ever talked +in such a way since the world began? If he had a part to play, why +in the name of common sense couldn't he play it respectably?</p> +<p>Queed got up, and began strolling about the floor. In his mind +was what Sharlee Weyland had said to him two hours before: "All the +bitterness nowadays comes from the non-combatants, the +camp-followers, the sutlers, and the cowards." Under which of these +heads did his friend, the old professor, fall?... Why had he ever +thought of Nicolovius as, perhaps, a broken Union officer? A broken +Union officer would feel bitter, if at all, against the Union. A +man who felt so bitter against the South—</p> +<p>A resolution was rapidly hardening in the young man's mind. He +felt this attitude of doubt and suspicion, these thoughts that he +was now thinking about the man whose roof he shared, as an unclean +spot upon his chaste passion for truth. He could not feel honest +again until he had wiped it off.... And, after all, what did he owe +to Nicolovius?</p> +<p>"But I must not leave you under the impression," said +Nicolovius, almost testily for him, "that my ideas are unique and +extraordinary. They are shared, in fact, by Southern historians of +repute and—"</p> +<p>Queed turned on him. "But you never read Southern +historians."</p> +<p>Nicolovius had a smile for that, though his expression seemed +subtly to shift. "I must make confession to you. Three days ago, I +broke the habits of quarter of a century. At the second-hand shop +on Centre Street I bought, actually, a little volume of history. It +is surprising how these Southern manifestations have interested +me."</p> +<p>Queed was an undesirable person for any man to live with who had +a secret to keep. His mind was relentlessly constructive; it would +build you up the whole dinosaur from the single left great digitus. +For apparently no reason at all, there had popped into his head a +chance remark of Major Brooke's a year ago, which he had never +thought of from that day to this: "I can't get over thinking that +I've seen that man before a long time ago, when he looked entirely +different, and yet somehow the same too."</p> +<p>"I will show you my purchase," added Nicolovius, after a moment +of seeming irresolution.</p> +<p>He disappeared down the hall to his bedroom, a retreat in which +Queed had never set foot, and returned promptly carrying a dingy +duodecimo in worn brown leather. As he entered the room, he +absently raised the volume to his lips and blew along the +edges.</p> +<p>Queed's mental processes were beyond his own control. "Three +days old," flashed into his mind, "and he blows dust from it."</p> +<p>"What is the book?" he asked.</p> +<p>"A very able little history of the Reconstruction era in this +State. I have a mind to read you a passage and convert you."</p> +<p>Nicolovius sat down, and began turning the pages. Queed stood a +step away, watching him intently. The old man fluttered the leaves +vaguely for a moment; then his expression shifted and, +straightening up, he suddenly closed the book.</p> +<p>"I don't appear to find," he said easily, "the little passage +that so impressed me the day before yesterday. And after all, what +would be the use of reading it to you? You impetuous young men will +never listen to the wisdom of your elders."</p> +<p>Smiling blandly, the subject closed, it might have been forever, +Nicolovius reached out toward the table to flick the ash from his +cigarette. In so doing, as luck had it, he struck the book and +knocked it from his knees. Something shook from its pages as it +dropped, and fell almost at Queed's feet. Mechanically he stooped +to pick it up.</p> +<p>It was a letter, at any rate an envelope, and it had fallen face +up, full in the light of the open window. The envelope bore an +address, in faded ink, but written in a bold legible hand. Not to +save his soul could Queed have avoided seeing it:</p> +<p><i>Henry G. Surface, Esq.,<br /> +36 Washington Street.</i></p> +<p>There was a dead silence: a silence that from matter-of-fact +suddenly became unendurable.</p> +<p>Queed handed the envelope to Nicolovius. Nicolovius glanced at +it, while pretending not to, and his eyelash flickered; his face +was about the color of cigar ashes. Queed walked away, waiting.</p> +<p>He expected that the old man would immediately demand whether he +had seen that name and address, or at least would immediately say +something. But he did nothing of the sort. When Queed turned at the +end of the room, Nicolovius was fluttering the pages of his book +again, apparently absorbed in it, apparently quite forgetting that +he had just laid it aside. Then Queed understood. Nicolovius did +not mean to say or do anything. He meant to pass over the little +incident altogether.</p> +<p>However, the pretense had now reached a point when Queed could +no longer endure it.</p> +<p>"Perhaps, after all," said Nicolovius, in his studiously bland +voice, "I am a little sweeping—"</p> +<p>Queed stood in front of him, interrupting, suddenly not at ease. +"Professor Nicolovius."</p> +<p>"Yes?"</p> +<p>"I must say something that will offend you, I'm afraid. For some +time I have found myself unable to believe the—story of your +life you were once good enough to give me."</p> +<p>"Ah, well," said Nicolovius, engrossed in his book, "it is not +required of you to believe it. We need have no quarrel about +that."</p> +<p>Suddenly Queed found that he hated to give the stab, but he did +not falter.</p> +<p>"I must be frank with you, professor. I saw whom that envelope +was addressed to just now."</p> +<p>"Nor need we quarrel about that."</p> +<p>But Queed's steady gaze upon him presently grew unbearable, and +at last the old man raised his head.</p> +<p>"Well? Whom was it addressed to?"</p> +<p>Queed felt disturbingly sorry for him, and, in the same thought, +admired his iron control. The old professor's face was gray; his +very lips were colorless; but his eyes were steady, and his voice +was the voice of every day.</p> +<p>"I think," said Queed, quietly, "that it is addressed to +you."</p> +<p>There was a lengthening silence while the two men, motionless, +looked into each other's eyes. The level gaze of each held just the +same look of faint horror, horror subdued and controlled, but still +there. Their stare became fascinated; it ran on as though nothing +could ever happen to break it off. To Queed it seemed as if +everything in the world had dropped away but those brilliant eyes, +frightened yet unafraid, boring into his.</p> +<p>Nicolovius broke the silence. The triumph of his intelligence +over his emotions showed in the fact that he attempted no +denial.</p> +<p>"Well?" he said somewhat thickly. "Well?—Well?"</p> +<p>Under the look of the younger man, he was beginning to break. +Into the old eyes had sprung a deadly terror, a look as though his +immortal soul might hang on what the young man was going to say +next. To answer this look, a blind impulse in Queed bade him strike +out, to say or do something; and his reason, which was always +detached and impersonal, was amazed to hear his voice +saying:—</p> +<p>"It's all right, professor. Not a thing is going to happen."</p> +<p>The old man licked his lips. "You ... will stay on here?"</p> +<p>And Queed's voice answered: "As long as you want me."</p> +<p>Nicolovius, who had been born Surface, suffered a moment of +collapse. He fell back in his chair, and covered his face with his +hands.</p> +<p>The dying efforts of the June sun still showed in the pretty +sitting-room, though the town clocks were striking seven. From +without floated in the voices of merry passers; eddies of the day's +celebration broke even into this quiet street. Queed sat down in a +big-armed rocker, and looked out the window into the pink west.</p> +<p>So, in a minute's time and by a wholly chance happening, the +mystery was out at last. Professor Nicolovius, the bland recluse of +Mrs. Paynter's, and Henry G. Surface, political arch-traitor, +ex-convict, and falsest of false friends, were one and the same +man.</p> +<p>The truth had been instantly plain to Queed when the name had +blazed up at him from the envelope on the floor. It was as though +Fate herself had tossed that envelope under his eyes, as the answer +to all his questionings. Not an instant's doubt had troubled him; +and now a score of memories were marshaling themselves before him +to show that his first flashing certainty had been sound. As for +the book, it was clearly from the library of the old man's youth, +kept and hidden away for some reason, when nearly everything else +had been destroyed. Between the musty pages the accusing letter had +lain forgotten for thirty years, waiting for this moment.</p> +<p>He turned and glanced once at the silent figure, huddled back in +the chair with covered eyes; the unhappy old man whom nobody had +ever trusted without regretting it. <i>Henry G. +Surface</i>—whose name was a synonym for those traits and +things which honest men of all peoples and climes have always hated +most, treachery, perfidy, base betrayal of trust, shameful +dishonesty—who had crowded the word <i>infamy</i> from the +popular lexicon of politics with the keener, more biting epithet, +<i>Surfaceism</i>. And here—wonder of wonders—sat +Surface before him, drawn back to the scene of his fall like a +murderer to the body and the scarlet stain upon the floor, caught, +trapped, the careful mask of many years plucked from him at a +sudden word, leaving him no covering upon earth but his smooth +white hands. And he, Queed, was this man's closest, his only +friend, chosen out of all the world to live with him and minister +to his declining years....</p> +<p>"It's true!" now broke through the concealing hands. "I am that +man.... God help me!"</p> +<p>Queed looked unseeingly out of the window, where the sun was +couching in a bed of copper flame stippled over with brightest +azure. Why had he done it? What crazy prompting had struck from him +that promise to yoke his destiny forever with this terrible old +man? If Nicolovius, the Fenian refugee, had never won his liking, +Surface, the Satan apostate, was detestable to him. What devil of +impulse had trapped from him the mad offer to spend his days in the +company of such a creature, and in the shadow of so odious an +ill-fame?</p> +<p>As on the day when Fifi had asked him her innocent question +about altruism, a sudden tide swept the young man's thoughts +inward. And after them, this time, groped the blundering feet of +his spirit.</p> +<p>Here was he, a mature man, who, in point of work, in all +practical and demonstrable ways, was the millionth man. He was a +great editorial writer, which was a minor but genuine activity. He +was a yet greater writer on social science, which was one of the +supreme activities. On this side, then, certainly the chief side, +there could be no question about the successfulness of his life. +His working life was, or would be before he was through, +brilliantly successful. But it had for some time been plain to him +that he stopped short there. He was a great workman, but that was +all. He was a superb rationalist; but after that he did not +exist.</p> +<p>Through the science of Human Intercourse, he saw much more of +people now than he had ever done before, and thus it had become +driven home upon him that most people had two lives, their outer or +practical lives, and their inner or personal lives. But he himself +had but one life. He was a machine; a machine which turned out +matchless work for the enlightenment of the world, but after all a +machine. He was intellect. He was Pure Reason. Yet he himself had +said, and written, that intellectual supremacy was not the true +badge of supremacy of type. There was nothing sure of races that +was not equally sure of the individuals which make up those races. +Yet intellect was all he was. Vast areas of thought, feeling, and +conduct, in which the people around him spent so much of their +time, were entirely closed to him. He had no personal life at all. +That part of him had atrophied from lack of use, like the eyes of +the mole and of those sightless fishes men take from the waters of +caverns.</p> +<p>And now this part of him, which had for some time been stirring +uneasily, had risen suddenly without bidding of his and in defiance +of his reason, and laid hold of something in his environment. In +doing so, it appeared to have thrust upon him an inner, or +personal, life from this time forward. That life lay in being of +use to the old man before him: he who had never been of personal +use to anybody so far, and the miserable old man who had no comfort +anywhere but in him.</p> +<p>He knew the scientific name of this kind of behavior very well. +It was altruism, the irrational force that had put a new face upon +the world. Fifi, he remembered well, had assured him that in +altruism he would find that fiercer happiness which was as much +better than content as being well was better than not being sick. +But ... could this be happiness, this whirling confusion that put +him to such straits to keep a calm face above the tumult of his +breast? If this was happiness, then it came to him for their first +meeting wearing a strange face....</p> +<p>"You know the story?"</p> +<p>Queed moved in his chair. "Yes. I—have heard it."</p> +<p>"Of course," said Nicolovius. "It is as well known as +Iscariot's. By God, how they've hounded me!"</p> +<p>Evidently he was recovering fast. There was bitterness, rather +than shame, in his voice. He took his hands from his eyes, adjusted +his cap, stiffened up in his chair. The sallow tints were coming +back into his face; his lips took on color; his eye and hand were +steady. Not every man could have passed through such a cataclysm +and emerged so little marked. He picked up his cigarette from the +table; it was still going. This fact was symbolic: the great shock +had come and passed within the smoking of an inch of cigarette. The +pretty room was as it was before. Pale sunshine still flickered on +the swelling curtain. The leather desk-clock gayly ticked the +passing seconds. The young man's clean-cut face looked as quiet as +ever.</p> +<p>Upon Queed the old man fastened his fearless black eyes.</p> +<p>"I meant to tell you all this some day," he said, in quite a +natural voice. "Now the day has come a little sooner than I had +meant—that is all. I know that my confidence is safe with +you—till I die."</p> +<p>"I think you have nothing to fear by trusting me," said Queed, +and added at once: "But you need tell me nothing unless you +prefer."</p> +<p>A kind of softness shone for a moment in Surface's eyes. "Nobody +could look at your face," he said gently, "and ever be afraid to +trust you."</p> +<p>The telephone rang, and Queed could answer it by merely putting +out his hand. It was West, from the office, asking that he report +for work that night, as he himself was compelled to be away.</p> +<p>Presently Surface began talking; talking in snatches, more to +himself than to his young friend, rambling backward over his broken +life in passionate reminiscence. He talked a long time thus, while +the daylight faded and dusk crept into the room, and then night; +and Queed listened, giving him all the rein he wanted and saying +never a word himself.</p> +<p>"... Pray your gods," said Surface, "that you never have such +reason to hate your fellow-men as I have had, my boy. For that has +been the keynote of my unhappy life. God, how I hated them all, and +how I do yet!... Not least Weyland, with his ostentatious virtue, +his holier-than-thou kindness, his self-righteous magnanimity +tossed even to me ... the broken-kneed idol whom others passed with +averted face, and there was none so poor to do me +reverence...."</p> +<p>So this, mused Queed, was the meaning of the old professor's +invincible dislike for Miss Weyland, which he had made so obvious +in the boarding-house that even Mr. Bylash commented on it. He had +never been able to forgive her father's generosity, which he had so +terribly betrayed; her name and her blood rankled and festered +eternally in the heart of the faithless friend and the striped +trustee.</p> +<p>Henderson, the ancient African who attended the two men, knocked +upon the shut door with the deprecatory announcement that he had +twice rung the supper-bell.</p> +<p>"Take the things back to the kitchen, Henderson," said Queed. +"I'll ring when we are ready."</p> +<p>The breeze was freshening, blowing full upon Surface, who did +not appear to notice it. Queed got up and lowered the window. The +old man's neglected cigarette burned his fingers; he lit another; +it, too, burned itself down to the cork-tip without receiving the +attention of a puff.</p> +<p>Presently he went on talking:</p> +<p>"I was of a high-spirited line. Thank God, I never learned to +fawn on the hand that lashed me. Insult I would not brook. I struck +back, and when I struck, I struck to kill.—Did I not? So hard +that the State reeled.... So hard that if I had had something +better than mean negroes and worse whites for my tools, fifth-rate +scavengers, buzzards of politics ... this hand would have written +the history of the State in these forty years.</p> +<p>"That was the way I struck, and how did they answer +me?—Ostracism ... Coventry ... The weapons of mean old women, +and dogs.... The dogs! That is what they were....</p> +<p>"Well, other arms were ready to receive me. Others were +fairer-minded than the cowardly bigots who could blow hot or cold +as their selfish interests and prostituted leaders whispered. I was +not a man to be kept down. Oh, my new friends were legion, and I +was king again. But it was never the same. In that way, they beat +me. I give them that.... Not they, though. It was deep calling to +deep. My +blood—heritage—tradition—education—all that +I was ... this was what tortured me with what was gone, and kept +calling.</p> +<p>"Wicked injustice and a lost birthright.... Oh, memory was there +to crucify me, by day and by night. And yet.... Why, it was a thing +that is done every day by men these people say their prayers to.... +Oh, yes—I wanted to punish—<i>him</i> for his smug +condescension, his patronizing playing of the good Samaritan. And +through him all these others ... show them that their old idol wore +claws on those feet of clay. But not in that way. No, a much +cleverer way than that. Perhaps there would be no money when they +asked for it, but I was to smile blandly and go on about my +business. They were never to reach <i>me</i>. But the Surfaces were +never skilled at juggling dirty money....</p> +<p>"They took me off my guard. The most technical fault—a +trifle.... Another day or two and everything would have been all +right. They had my word for it—and you know how they +replied.... The infamous tyranny of the majority. The greatest +judicial crime in a decade, and they laughed.</p> +<p>"So now I lie awake in the long nights with nine years of +<i>that</i> to look back on.</p> +<p>"Let my life be a lesson to you teaching you—if nothing +else—that it is of no use to fight society. They have a +hopeless advantage, the contemptible advantage of numbers, and they +are not ashamed to use it.... But my spirit would not let me lie +quiet under injury and insult. I was ever a fighter, born to die +with my spurs on. And when I die at last, they will find that I go +with a Parthian shot ... and after all have the last word.</p> +<p>"So I came out into a bright world again, an old man before my +time, ruined forever, marked with a scarlet mark to wear to my +grave....</p> +<p>"And then in time, as of course it would, the resolve came to me +to come straight back here to die. A man wants to die among his own +people. They were all that ever meant anything to me—they +have that to boast of.... I loved this city once. To die anywhere +else ... why, it was meaningless, a burlesque on death. I looked at +my face in the glass; my own mother would not have known me. And so +I came straight to Jennie Paynter's, such was my whim ... whom I +held on my knee fifty years ago.</p> +<p>"... Oh, it's been funny ... so funny ... to sit at that +intolerable table, and hear poor old Brooke on Reconstruction.</p> +<p>"And I've wondered what little Jennie Paynter would do, if I had +risen on one of these occasions and spoken my name to the table. +How I've hated her—hated the look and sight of her—and +all the while embracing it for dear life. She has told me much that +she never knew I listened to—many a bit about old friends ... +forty years since I'd heard their names. And Brooke has told me +much, the doting old ass.</p> +<p>"But the life grew unbearable to a man of my temper. I could +afford the decency of privacy in my old age. For I had worked hard +and saved since....</p> +<p>"And then you came ... a scholar and a gentleman."</p> +<p>It was quite dark in the room. Surface's voice had suddenly +changed. The bitterness faded out of it; it became gentler than +Queed had ever heard it.</p> +<p>"I did not find you out at once. My life had made me +unsocial—and out of the Nazareth of that house I never looked +for any good to come. But when once I took note of you, each day I +saw you clearer and truer. I saw you fighting, and asking no +odds—for elbow-room to do your own work, for your way up on +the newspaper, for bodily strength and health—everywhere I +saw you, you were fighting indomitably. I have always loved a +fighter. You were young and a stranger, alone like me; you stirred +no memories of a past that now, in my age, I would forget; your +face was the face of honor and truth. I thought: What a blessing if +I could make a friend of this young man for the little while that +is left me!... And you have been a blessing and a joy—more +than you can dream. And now you will not cast me off, like the +others.... I do not know the words with which to try to thank +you...."</p> +<p>"Oh, don't," came Queed's voice hastily out of the dark. "There +is no question of thanks here."</p> +<p>He got up, lit the lamps, pulled down the shade. The old man lay +back in his chair, his hands gripping its arms, the lamplight full +upon him. Never had Queed seen him look less inspiring to +affection. His black cap had gotten pushed to one side, which both +revealed a considerable area of hairless head, and imparted to the +whole face an odd and rakish air; the Italian eyes did not wholly +match with the softness of his voice; the thin-lipped mouth under +the long auburn mustache looked neither sorrowful nor kind. It was +Queed's lifelong habit never to look back with vain regrets; and he +needed all of his resolution now.</p> +<p>He stood in front of the man whose terrible secret he had +surprised, and outwardly he was as calm as ever.</p> +<p>"Professor Nicolovius," he said, with a faint emphasis upon the +name, "all this is as though it had never passed between us. And +now let's go and get some supper."</p> +<p>Surface rose to his height and took Queed's hand in a grip like +iron. His eyes glistened with sudden moisture.</p> +<p>"God bless you, boy! You're a <i>man!</i>"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>It had been a memorable conversation in the life of both men, +opening up obvious after-lines of more or less momentous thought. +Yet each of them, as it happened, neglected these lines for a +corollary detail of apparently much less seriousness, and pretty +nearly the same detail at that. For Surface sat long that evening, +meditating how he might most surely break up the friendship between +his young friend and Sharlee Weyland; while Queed, all during his +busy hours at the office, found his thoughts of Nicolovius +dominated by speculations as to what Miss Weyland would say, if she +knew that he had formed a lifelong compact with the man who had +betrayed her father's friendship and looted her own fortune.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Of the Bill for the Reformatory, and its Critical Situation; +of West's Second Disappointment with the Rewards of Patriotism; of +the Consolation he found in the most Charming Resolve in the +World</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>In January the legislature met again. All autumn and early +winter the <i>Post</i> had been pounding without surcease upon two +great issues: first, the reform of the tax-laws, and, second, the +establishment of a reformatory institution for women. It was +palpably the resolve of the paper that the legislature should not +overlook these two measures through lack of being shown where its +duty lay.</p> +<p>To the assistant editor had been assigned both campaigns, and he +had developed his argument with a deadly persistence. A legislature +could no more ignore him than you could ignore a man who is +pounding you over the head with a bed-slat. Queed had proved his +cases in a dozen ways, historically and analogically, politically, +morally, and scientifically, socially and sociologically. Then, for +luck, he proceeded to run through the whole list again a time or +two; and now faithful readers of the <i>Post</i> cried aloud for +mercy, asking each other what under the sun had got into the paper +that it thus massacred and mutilated the thrice-slain.</p> +<p>But the <i>Post</i>, aided by the press of the State which had +been captivated by its ringing logic, continued its merciless fire, +and, as it proved, not insanely. For when the legislature came +together, it turned out to be one of those "economy" sessions, +periodically thrust down the throats of even the wiliest +politicians. Not "progress" was its watchword, but "wise +retrenchment." Every observer of events, especially in states where +one party has been long in control, is familiar with these +recurrent manifestations. There is a long period of systematic +reduplication of the offices, multiplying generosity to the +faithful, and enormous geometrical progression of the public +payroll. Some mishap, one day, focuses attention upon the princely +totalities of the law-making spenders, and a howl goes up from the +"sovereigns," who, as has been wisely observed, never have any +power until they are mad. The party managers, always respectful to +an angry electorate, thereupon announce that, owing to the +wonderful period of progress and expansion brought about by their +management, the State can afford to slow up for a brief period, +hold down expenses and enjoy its (party-made) prosperity. This +strikes the "keynote" for the next legislature, which pulls a long +face, makes a tremendous noise about "economy," and possibly +refrains from increasing expenses, or even shades them down about a +dollar and a half. Flushed with their victory, the innocent +sovereigns return, Cincinnatus-wise, to their plows, and the next +session of the legislature, relieved of that suspicionful scrutiny +so galling to men of spirit, proceeds to cut the purse-strings +loose with a whoop.</p> +<p>Such a brief spasm had now seized the State. Expenses had +doubled and redoubled with a velocity which caused even hardened +prodigals to view with alarm. The number of commissions, boards, +assistant inspectors, and third deputy clerks was enormous, far +larger than anybody realized. If you could have taken a biological +cross-section through the seat of State Government, you would +doubtless have discovered a most amazing number of unobtrusive +gentlemen with queer little titles and odd little duties, sitting +silent and sleek under their cover; their hungry little mouths +affixed last year to the public breast, or two years ago, or +twenty, and ready to open in fearful wailing if anybody sought to +pluck them off. In an aggregate way, attention had been called to +them during the gubernatorial campaign of the summer. Attacks from +the rival stump had, of course, been successfully "answered" by the +loyal leaders and party press. But the bare statement of the annual +expenditures, as compared with the annual expenditures of ten years +ago, necessarily stood, and in cold type it looked bad. Therefore +the legislature met now for an "economy session." The public was +given to understand that every penny would have to give a strict +account of itself before it would receive a pass from the treasury, +and that public institutions, asking for increased support, could +consider themselves lucky if they did not find their appropriations +scaled down by a fourth or so.</p> +<p>The <i>Post's</i> tax reform scheme went through with a bang. +Out of loose odds and ends of vague discontent, Queed had succeeded +in creating a body of public sentiment that became invincible. +Moreover, this scheme cost nothing. On the contrary, by a +rearrangement of items and a stricter system of assessment, it +promised, as the <i>Post</i> frequently remarked, to put hundreds +of thousands into the treasury. But the reformatory was a horse of +a totally different color. Here was a proposal, for a mere +supposititious moral gain, evanescent as air, to take a hundred +thousand dollars of hard money out of the crib, and saddle the +State with an annual obligation, to boot. An excellent thing in +itself, but a most unreasonable request of an economy session, said +the organization leaders. In fact, this hundred thousand dollars +happened to be precisely the hundred thousand dollars they needed +to lubricate "the organization," and discharge, by some choice new +positions, a few honorable obligations incurred during the +campaign.</p> +<p>Now it was written in the recesses of the assistant editor's +being, those parts of him which he never thought of mentioning to +anybody, that the reformatory bill must pass. Various feelings had +gradually stiffened an early general approval into a rock-ribbed +resolve. It was on a closely allied theme that he had first won his +editorial spurs—the theme of Klinker's "blaggards," who made +reformatories necessary. That was one thing: a kind of professional +sentiment which the sternest scientist need not be ashamed to +acknowledge. And then, beyond that, his many talks with Klinker had +invested the campaign for the reformatory with a warmth of meaning +which was without precedent in his experience. This was, in fact, +his first personal contact with the suffering and sin of the world, +his first grapple with a social problem in the raw. Two years +before, when he had offered to write an article on this topic for +the Assistant Secretary of Charities, his interest in a reformatory +had been only the scientific interest which the trained sociologist +feels in all the enginery of social reform. But now this +institution had become indissolubly connected in Queed's mind with +the case of Eva Bernheimer, whom Buck Klinker knew, Eva Bernheimer +who was "in trouble" at sixteen, and had now "dropped out." A +reformatory had become in his thought a living instrument to catch +the Eva Bernheimers of this world, and effectually prevent them +from dropping out.</p> +<p>And apart from all this, here was the first chance he had ever +had to do a service for Sharlee Weyland.</p> +<p>However, the bill stuck obstinately in committee. Now the +session was more than half over, February was nearly gone, and +there it still stuck. And when it finally came out, it was +evidently going to be a toss of a coin whether it would be passed +by half a dozen votes, or beaten by an equal number. But there was +not the slightest doubt that the great majority of the voters, so +far as they were interested in it at all, wanted it passed, and the +tireless <i>Post</i> was prodding the committee every other day, +observing that now was the time, etc., and demanding in a hundred +forceful ways, how about it?</p> +<p>With cheerfulness and confidence had West intrusted these +important matters to his young assistant. Not only was Queed an +acknowledged authority on both taxation and penological science, +but he had enjoyed the advantage of writing articles on both themes +under Colonel Cowles's personal direction. The Colonel's bones were +dust, his pen was rust, his soul was with the saints, we trust; but +his gallant spirit went marching on. He towered out of memory a +demigod, and what he said and did in his lifetime had become as the +law of the Medes and Persians now.</p> +<p>But there was never any dispute about the division of editorial +honors on the <i>Post</i>, anyway. The two young men, in fact, were +so different in every way that their relations were a model of +mutual satisfaction. Never once did Queed's popular chief seek to +ride over his valued helper, or deny him his full share of +opportunity in the department. If anything, indeed, he leaned quite +the other way. For West lacked the plodder's faculty for +indefatigable application. Like some rare and splendid bird, if he +was kept too closely in captivity, his spirit sickened and +died.</p> +<p>It is time to admit frankly that West, upon closer contact with +newspaper work, had been somewhat disillusioned, and who that +knows, will be surprised at that? To begin with, he had been used +to much freedom, and his new duties were extremely confining. They +began soon after breakfast, and no man could say at what hour they +would end. The night work, in especial, he abhorred. It interfered +with much more amusing things that had hitherto beguiled his +evenings, and it also conflicted with sleep, of which he required a +good deal. There was, too, a great amount of necessary but most +irksome drudgery connected with his editorial labors. Because the +<i>Post</i> was a leader of public thought in the State, and as +such enjoyed a national standing, West found it necessary to read a +vast number of papers, to keep up with what was going on. He was +also forced to write many perfunctory articles on subjects which +did not interest him in the least, and about which, to tell the +truth, he knew very little. There were also a great many letters +either to be answered, or to be prepared for publication in the +People's Forum column, and these letters were commonly written by +dull asses who had no idea what they were talking about. Prosy +people were always coming in with requests or complaints, usually +the latter. First and last there was a quantity of grinding detail +which, like the embittered old fogeyism of the Blaines College +trustees, had not appeared on his rosy prospect in the Maytime +preceding.</p> +<p>With everything else favorable, West would cheerfully have +accepted these things, as being inextricably embedded in the nature +of the work. But unfortunately, everything else was not favorable. +Deeper than the grind of the routine detail, was the constant +opposition and adverse criticism to which his newspaper, like every +other one, was incessantly subjected. It has long been a trite +observation that no reader of any newspaper is so humble as not to +be outspokenly confident that he could run that paper a great deal +better than those who actually are running it. Every upstanding man +who pays a cent for a daily journal considers that he buys the +right to abuse it, nay incurs the manly duty of abusing it. Every +editor knows that the highest praise he can expect is silence. If +his readers are pleased with his remarks, they nobly refrain from +comment. But if they disagree with one jot or tittle of his +high-speed dissertations, he must be prepared to have quarts of ink +squirted at him forthwith.</p> +<p>Now this was exactly the reverse of Editor West's preferences. +He liked criticism of him to be silent, and praise of him to be +shouted in the market-place. For all his good-humor and poise, the +steady fire of hostile criticism fretted him intensely. He did not +like to run through his exchanges and find his esteemed +contemporaries combatting his positions, sometimes bitterly or +contemptuously, and always, so it seemed to him, unreasonably and +unfairly. He did not like to have friends stop him on the street to +ask why in the name of so-and-so he had said such-and-such; or, +more trying still, have them pass him with an icy nod, simply +because he, in some defense of truth and exploitation of the +uplift, had fearlessly trod upon their precious little toes. He did +not like to have his telephone ring with an angry protest, or to +get a curt letter from a railroad president (supposedly a good +friend of the paper's) desiring to know by return mail whether the +clipping therewith inclosed represented the <i>Post's</i> attitude +toward the railroads. A steady procession of things like these +wears on the nerves of a sensitive man, and West, for all his +confident exterior, was a sensitive man. A heavy offset in the form +of large and constant public eulogies was needed to balance these +annoyances, and such an offset was not forthcoming.</p> +<p>West was older now, a little less ready in his enthusiasms, a +shade less pleased with the world, a thought less sure of the +eternal merits of the life of uplift. In fact he was thirty-three +years old, and he had moments, now and then, when he wondered if he +were going forward as rapidly and surely as he had a right to +expect. This was the third position he had had since he left +college, and it was his general expectation to graduate into a +fourth before a great while. Semple frequently urged him to return +to the brokerage business; he had made an unquestioned success +there at any rate. As to Blaines College, he could not be so +confident. The college had opened this year with an increased +enrollment of twenty-five; and though West privately felt certain +that his successor was only reaping where he himself had sown, you +could not be certain that the low world would so see it. As for the +<i>Post</i>, it was a mere stop-gap, a momentary halting-place +where he preened for a far higher flight. There were many times +that winter when West wondered if Plonny Neal, whom he rarely or +never saw, could possibly have failed to notice how prominently he +was in line.</p> +<p>But these doubts and dissatisfactions left little mark upon the +handsome face and buoyant manner. Changes in West, if there were +any, were of the slightest. Certainly his best friends, like those +two charming young women, Miss Weyland and Miss Avery, found him as +delightful as ever.</p> +<p>In these days, West's mother desired him to marry. After the +cunning habit of women, she put the thought before him daily, under +many an alluring guise, by a thousand engaging approaches. West +himself warmed to the idea. He had drunk freely of the pleasures of +single blessedness, under the most favorable conditions; was now +becoming somewhat jaded with them; and looked with approval upon +the prospect of a little nest, or indeed one not so little, duly +equipped with the usual faithful helpmeet who should share his +sorrows, joys, etc. The nest he could feather decently enough +himself; the sole problem, a critical one in its way, was to decide +upon the helpmeet. West was neither college boy nor sailor. His +heart was no harem of beautiful faces. Long since, he had faced the +knowledge that there were but two girls in the world for him. +Since, however, the church and the law allowed him but one, he must +more drastically monogamize his heart and this he found enormously +difficult. It was the poet's triangle with the two dear charmers +over again.</p> +<p>One blowy night in late February, West passed by the brown stone +palace which Miss Avery's open-handed papa, from Mauch Chunk, +occupied on a three years' lease with privilege of buying; and +repaired to the more modest establishment where dwelt Miss Weyland +and her mother. The reformatory issue was then at the touch. The +bill had come out of committee with a six-and-six vote; rumor had +it that it would be called up in the House within the week; and it +now appeared as though a push of a feather's weight might settle +its fate either way. Sharlee and West spoke first of this. She was +eagerly interested, and praised him warmly for the interest and +valuable help of the <i>Post</i>. Her confidence was unshaken that +the bill would go through, though by a narrow margin.</p> +<p>"The opposition is of the deadliest sort," she admitted, +"because it is silent. It is silent because it knows that its only +argument—all this economy talk—is utterly insincere. +But Mr. Dayne knows where the opposition is—and the way he +goes after it! Never believe any more that ministers can't +lobby!"</p> +<p>"Probably the root of the whole matter," offered West, easing +himself back into his chair, "is that the machine fellows want this +particular hundred thousand dollars in their business."</p> +<p>"Isn't it horrid that men can be so utterly selfish? You don't +think they will really venture to do that?"</p> +<p>"I honestly don't know. You see I have turned it all over to +Queed, and I confess I haven't studied it with anything like the +care he has."</p> +<p>Sharlee, who was never too engrossed in mere subjects to notice +people's tones, said at once: "Oh, I am sure they won't dare do +it," and immediately changed the subject. "You are going to the +German, of course?"</p> +<p>"Oh, surely, unless the office pinches me."</p> +<p>"You mustn't let it pinch you—the last of the year, +heigho! Did you hear about Robert Byrd and Miss—no, I won't +give you her name—and the visiting girl?"</p> +<p>"Never a word."</p> +<p>"She's a thoroughly nice girl, but—well, not pretty, I +should say, and I don't think she has had much fun here. Beverley +and Robert Byrd were here the other night. Why <i>will</i> they +hunt in pairs, do you know? I told Beverley that he positively must +take this girl to the German. He quarreled and complained a good +deal at first, but finally yielded like a dear boy. Then he seemed +to enter in the nicest way into the spirit of our altruistic +design. He said that after he had asked the girl, it would be very +nice if Robert should ask her too. He would be refused, of course, +but the girl would have the pleasant feeling of getting a rush, and +Robert would boost his standing as a philanthropist, all without +cost to anybody. Robert was good-natured, and fell in with the +plan. Three days later he telephoned me, simply furious. He had +asked the girl—you know he hasn't been to a German for five +years—and she accepted at once with tears of gratitude."</p> +<p>"But how—?"</p> +<p>"Of course Beverley never asked her. He simply trapped Robert, +which he would rather do than anything else in the world."</p> +<p>West shouted. "Speaking of Germans," he said presently, "I am +making up my list for next year—the early bird, you know. How +many will you give me?"</p> +<p>"Six."</p> +<p>"Will you kindly sign up the papers to-night?"</p> +<p>"No—my mother won't let me. I might sign up for one if you +want me to."</p> +<p>"What possible use has your mother for the other five that is +better than giving them all to me?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps she doesn't want to spoil other men for me."</p> +<p>West leaned forward, interest fully awakened on his charming +face, and Sharlee watched him, pleased with herself.</p> +<p>It had occurred to her, in fact, that Mr. West was tired; and +this was the solemn truth. He was a man of large responsibilities, +with a day's work behind him and a night's work ahead of him. His +personal conception of the way to occupy the precious interval did +not include the conscientious talking of shop. Jaded and +brain-fagged, what he desired was to be amused, beguiled, soothed, +fascinated, even flattered a bit, mayhap. Sharlee's theory of +hospitality was that a guest was entitled to any type of +conversation he had a mind to. Having dismissed her own troubles, +she now proceeded to make herself as agreeable as she knew how; and +he has read these pages to little purpose who does not know that +that was very agreeable indeed.</p> +<p>West, at least, appeared to think so. He lingered, charmed, +until quarter past eleven o'clock, at which hour Mrs. Weyland, in +the room above, began to let the tongs and poker fall about with +unmistakable significance; and went out into the starlit night +radiant with the certainty that his heart, after long wandering, +had found its true mate at last.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Sharlee's Parlor on Another Evening; how One Caller outsat +Two, and why; also, how Sharlee looked in her Mirror for a Long +Time, and why.</i></p> +</div> +<p>On the very night after West made his happy discovery, namely on +the evening of February 24, at about twenty minutes of nine, +Sharlee Weyland's door-bell rang, and Mr. Queed was shown into her +parlor.</p> +<p>His advent was a complete surprise to Sharlee. For these nine +months, her suggestion that he should call upon her had lain +utterly neglected. Since the Reunion she had seen him but four +times, twice on the street, and once at each of their offices, when +the business of the reformatory had happened to draw them together. +The last of these meetings, which had been the briefest, was +already six weeks old. In all of her acquaintance with him, +extending now over two years and a half, this was the first time +that he had ever sought her out with intentions that were, +presumably, deliberately social.</p> +<p>The event, Sharlee felt in greeting him, could not have +happened, more unfortunately. Queed found the parlor occupied, and +the lady's attention engaged, by two young men before him. One of +them was Beverley Byrd, who saluted him somewhat moodily. The other +was a Mr. Miller—no relation to Miss Miller of Mrs. +Paynter's, though a faint something in his <i>ensemble</i> lent +plausibility to that conjecture—a newcomer to the city who, +having been introduced to Miss Weyland somewhere, had taken the +liberty of calling without invitation or permission. It was +impossible for Sharlee to be rude to anybody under her own roof, +but it is equally impossible to describe her manner to Mr. Miller +as exactly cordial. He himself was a cordial man, mustached and +anecdotal, who assumed rather more confidence than he actually +felt. Beverley Byrd, who did not always hunt in pairs, had taken an +unwonted dislike to him at sight. He did not consider him a +suitable person to be calling on Sharlee, and he had been doing his +best, with considerable deftness and success, to deter him from +feeling too much at home.</p> +<p>Byrd wore a beautiful dinner jacket. So did Mr. Miller, with a +gray tie, and a gray, brass-buttoned vest, to boot. Queed wore his +day clothes of blue, which were not so new as they were the day +Sharlee first saw them, on the rustic bridge near the little +cemetery. He had, of course, taken it for granted that he would +find Miss Weyland alone. Nevertheless, he did not appear +disconcerted by the sudden discovery of his mistake, or even by Mr. +Miller's glorious waistcoat; he was as grave as ever, but showed no +signs of embarrassment. Sharlee caught herself observing him +closely, as he shook hands with the two men and selected a chair +for himself; she concluded that constant contact with the graces of +Charles Gardiner West had not been without its effect upon him. He +appeared decidedly more at his ease than Mr. Miller, for instance, +and he had another valuable possession which that personage lacked, +namely, the face of a gentleman.</p> +<p>But it was too evident that he felt little sense of +responsibility for the maintenance of the conversation. He sat back +in a chair of exceptionable comfortableness, and allowed Beverley +Byrd to discourse with him; a privilege which Byrd exercised +fitfully, for his heart was in the talk that Sharlee was dutifully +supporting with Mr. Miller. Into this talk he resolutely declined +to be drawn, but his ear was alert for opportunities—which +came not infrequently—to thrust in a polished oar to the +discomfiture of the intruder.</p> +<p>Not that he would necessarily care to do it, but the runner +could read Mr. Miller, without a glass, at one hundred paces' +distance. He was of the climber type, a self-made man in the +earlier and less inspiring stages of the making. Culture had a +dangerous fascination for him. He adored to talk of books; a rash +worship, it seemed, since his but bowing acquaintance with them +trapped him frequently into mistaken identities over which Sharlee +with difficulty kept a straight face, while Byrd palpably +rejoiced.</p> +<p>"You know <i>Thanatopsis</i>, of course," he would ask, with a +rapt and glowing eye—"Lord Byron's beautiful poem on the +philosophy of life? Now that is my idea of what poetry ought to be, +Miss Weyland...."</p> +<p>And Beverley Byrd, breaking his remark to Queed off short in the +middle, would turn to Sharlee with a face of studious calm and +say:—</p> +<p>"Will you ever forget, Sharlee, the first time you read the +other <i>Thanatopsis</i>—the one by William Cullen Bryant? +Don't you remember how it looked—with the picture of +Bryant—in the old Fifth Reader?"</p> +<p>Mr. Miller proved that he could turn brick-red, but he learned +nothing from experience.</p> +<p>In time, the talk between the two young men, which had begun so +desultorily, warmed up. Byrd had read something besides the Fifth +Reader, and Queed had discovered before to-night that he had ideas +to express. Their conversation progressed with waxing interest, +from the President's message to the causes of the fall of Rome, and +thence by wholly logical transitions to the French Revolution and +Woman's Suffrage. Byrd gradually became so absorbed that he almost, +but not quite, neglected to keep Mr. Miller in his place. As for +Queed, he spoke in defense of the "revolt of woman" for five +minutes without interruption, and his masterly sentences finally +drew the silence and attention of Mr. Miller himself.</p> +<p>"Who is that fellow?" he asked in an undertone. "I didn't catch +his name."</p> +<p>Sharlee told him.</p> +<p>"He's got a fine face," observed Mr. Miller. "I've made quite a +study of faces, and I never saw one just like his—so +absolutely on one note, if you know what I mean."</p> +<p>"What note is that?" asked Sharlee, interested by him for the +only time so long as they both did live.</p> +<p>"Well, it's not always easy to put a name to it, but I'd call it +... <i>honesty</i>.—<i>If</i> you know what I mean."</p> +<p>Mr. Miller stayed until half-past ten. The door had hardly shut +upon him when Byrd, too, rose.</p> +<p>"Oh, don't go, Beverley!" protested Sharlee. "I've hardly spoken +to you."</p> +<p>"Duty calls," said Byrd. "I'm going to walk home with Mr. +Miller."</p> +<p>"Beverley—don't! You were quite horrid enough while he was +here."</p> +<p>"But you spoiled it all by being so unnecessarily agreeable! It +is my business, as your friend and well-wisher, to see that he +doesn't carry away too jolly a memory of his visit. Take lunch +downtown with me to-morrow, won't you, Mr. Queed—at the +Business Men's Club? I want to finish our talk about the Catholic +nations, and why they're decadent."</p> +<p>Queed said that he would, and Byrd hurried away to overtake Mr. +Miller. Or, perhaps that gentleman was only a pretext, and the +young man's experienced eye had read that any attempt to outsit the +learned assistant editor was foredoomed to failure.</p> +<p>"I'm so glad you stayed," said Sharlee, as Queed reseated +himself. "I shouldn't have liked not to exchange a word with you on +your first visit here."</p> +<p>"Oh! This is not my first visit, you may remember."</p> +<p>"Your first voluntary visit, perhaps I should have said."</p> +<p>He let his eyes run over the room, and she could see that he was +thinking, half-unconsciously, of the last time when he and she had +sat here.</p> +<p>"I had no idea of going," he said absently, "till I had the +opportunity of speaking to you."</p> +<p>A brief silence followed, which clearly did not embarrass him, +at any rate. Sharlee, feeling the necessity of breaking it, still +puzzling herself with speculations as to what had put it into his +head to come, said at random:—</p> +<p>"Oh, do tell me—how is old Père Goriot?"</p> +<p>"Père Goriot? I never heard of him."</p> +<p>"Oh, forgive me! It is a name we used to have, long ago, for +Professor Nicolovius."</p> +<p>A shadow crossed his brow. "He is extremely well, I +believe."</p> +<p>"You are still glad that you ran off with him to live +<i>tête-à-tête</i> in a bridal cottage?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I suppose so. Yes, certainly!"</p> +<p>His frank face betrayed that the topic was unwelcome to him. For +he hated all secrets, and this secret, from this girl, was +particularly obnoxious to him. And beyond all that part of it, how +could he analyze for anybody his periods of strong revolt against +his association with Henry G. Surface, followed by longer and +stranger periods when, quite apart from the fact that his word was +given and regrets were vain, his consciousness embraced it as +having a certain positive value?</p> +<p>He rose restlessly, and in rising his eye fell upon the little +clock on the mantel.</p> +<p>"Good heavens!" broke from him. "I had no idea it was so late! I +must go directly. Directly."</p> +<p>"Oh, no, you mustn't think of it. Your visit to me has just +begun—all this time you have been calling on Beverley +Byrd."</p> +<p>"Why do you think I came here to-night?" he asked abruptly.</p> +<p>Sharlee, from her large chair, smiled. "<i>I</i> think to see +me."</p> +<p>"Oh!—Yes, naturally, but—"</p> +<p>"Well, I think this is the call plainly due me from my Reunion +party last year."</p> +<p>"No! Not at all! At the same time, it has been since that day +that I have had you on my mind so much."</p> +<p>He said this in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice, but a certain +nervousness had broken through into his manner. He took a turn up +and down the room, and returned suddenly to his seat.</p> +<p>"Oh, have you had me on your mind?"</p> +<p>"Do you remember my saying that day," he began, resolutely, +"that I was not sure whether I had got the better of you or you had +got the better of me?"</p> +<p>"I remember very well."</p> +<p>"Well, I have come to tell you that—you have won."</p> +<p>He had plucked a pencil from the arsenal of them in his +breast-pocket, and with it was beating a noiseless tattoo on his +open left palm. With an effort he met her eyes.</p> +<p>"I say you were right," came from him nervously. "Don't you +hear?"</p> +<p>"Was I? Won't you tell me just what you mean?"</p> +<p>"Don't you know?"</p> +<p>"Really I don't think I do. You see, when I used that expression +that day, I was speaking only of the editorship—"</p> +<p>"But I was speaking of a theory of life. After all, the two +things seem to have been bound together rather closely—just +as you said."</p> +<p>He restored his pencil to his pocket, palpably pulled himself +together, and proceeded:</p> +<p>"Oh, my theory was wholly rational—far more rational than +yours; rationally it was perfect. It was a wholly logical recoil +from the idleness, the lack of purpose, the slipshod +self-indulgence under many names that I saw, and see, everywhere +about me. I have work to do—serious work of large +importance—and it seemed to me my duty to carry it through at +all hazards. I need not add that it still seems so. Yet it was a +life's work, already well along, and there was no need for me to +pay an excessive price for mere speed. I elected to let everything +go but intellect; I felt that I must do so; and in consequence, by +the simplest sort of natural law, all the rest of me was shriveling +up—had shriveled up, you will say. Yet I knew very well that +my intellect was not the biggest part of me. I have always +understood that.... Still, it seems that I required you to +rediscover it for me in terms of everyday life...."</p> +<p>"No, no!" she interrupted, "I didn't do that. Most of it you did +yourself. The start, the first push—don't you know?—it +came from Fifi."</p> +<p>"Well," he said slowly, "what was Fifi but you again in +miniature?"</p> +<p>"A great deal else," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>Her gaze fell. She sunk her chin upon her hand, and a silence +followed, while before the mind's eye of each rose a vision of +Fifi, with her wasted cheeks and great eyes.</p> +<p>"As I say, I sacrificed everything to reason," continued Queed, +obviously struggling against embarrassment, "and yet pure reason +was never my ideal. I have impressed you as a thoroughly selfish +person—you have told me that—and so far as my immediate +environment is concerned, I have been, and am. So it may surprise +you to be told that a life of service has been from the beginning +my ambition and my star. Of course I have always interpreted +service in the broadest sense, in terms of the world; that was why +I deliberately excluded all purely personal applications of it. Yet +it is from a proper combination of reason with—the +sociologist's 'consciousness of kind'—fellow-feeling, +sympathy, if you prefer, that is derived a life of fullest +efficiency. I have always understood the truth of this formula as +applied to peoples. It seems that I—rather missed its force +as to individuals. I—I am ready to admit that an individual +life can draw an added meaning—and richness from a service, +not of the future, but of the present—not of the race but ... +well, of the unfortunate on the doorstep. Do you understand," he +asked abruptly, "what I am trying to tell you?"</p> +<p>She assured him that she understood perfectly.</p> +<p>A slow painful color came into his face.</p> +<p>"Then you appreciate the nature and the size of the debt I owe +you."</p> +<p>"Oh, no, no, no! If I have done anything at all to help you," +said Sharlee, considerably moved, "then I am very glad and proud. +But as for what you speak of ... no, no, people always do these +things for themselves. The help comes from within—"</p> +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i> talk like that!" broke from him. "You throw +out the idea somehow that I consider that I have undergone some +remarkable conversion and transformation. I haven't done anything +of the sort. I am just the same as I always was. Just the same.... +Only now I am willing to admit, as a scientific truth, that time +given to things not in themselves directly productive, can be made +to pay a good dividend. If what I said led you to think that I +meant more than that, then I have, for once, expressed myself +badly. I tell you this," he went on hurriedly, "simply because you +once interested yourself in trying to convince me of the truth of +these views. Some of the things you said that night managed to +stick. They managed to stick. Oh, I give you that. I suppose you +might say that they gradually became like mottoes or +texts—not scientific, of course ... personal. Therefore, I +thought it only fair to tell you that while my cosmos is still +mostly Ego—I suppose everybody's is in one way or +another—I have—made changes, so that I am no longer +wholly out of relation with life."</p> +<p>"I am glad you wanted to tell me," said Sharlee, "but I have +known it for—oh, the longest time."</p> +<p>"In a certain sense," he hurried on—"quite a different +sense—I should say that your talk—the only one of the +kind I ever had—did for me the sort of thing ... that most +men's mothers do for them when they are young."</p> +<p>She made no reply.</p> +<p>"Perhaps," he said, almost defiantly, "you don't like my saying +that?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes! I like it very much."</p> +<p>"And yet," he said, "I don't think of you as I fancy a man would +think of his mother, or even of his sister. It is rather +extraordinary. It has become clear to me that you have obtained a +unique place in my thought—in my regard. Well, +good-night."</p> +<p>She looked up at him, without, however, quite meeting his +eyes.</p> +<p>"Oh! Do you think you must go?"</p> +<p>"Well—yes. I have said everything that I came to say. Did +you want me to stay particularly?"</p> +<p>"Not if you feel that you shouldn't. You've been very good to +give me a whole evening, as it is."</p> +<p>"I'll tell you one more thing before I go."</p> +<p>He took another turn up and down the room, and halted frowning +in front of her.</p> +<p>"I am thinking of making an experiment in practical social work +next year. What would be your opinion of a free night-school for +working boys?"</p> +<p>Sharlee, greatly surprised by the question, said that the field +was a splendid one.</p> +<p>He went on at once: "Technical training, of course, would be the +nominal basis of it. I could throw in, also, boxing and physical +culture. Buck Klinker would be delighted to help there. By the way, +you must know Klinker: he has some first-rate ideas about what to +do for the working population. Needless to say, both the technical +and physical training would be only baits to draw attendance, +though both could be made very valuable. My main plan is along a +new line. I want to teach what no other school attempts—only +one thing, but that to be hammered in so that it can never be +forgotten."</p> +<p>"What is that?"</p> +<p>"You might sum it all up as the doctrine of individual +responsibility."</p> +<p>She echoed his term inquiringly, and he made a very large +gesture.</p> +<p>"I want to see if I can teach boys that they are not +individuals—not unrelated atoms in a random universe. Teach +them that they live in a world of law—of evolution by +law—that they are links, every one of them, in a splendid +chain that has been running since life began, and will run on to +the end of time. Knock into their heads that no chain is stronger +than its weakest link, and that <i>this means them</i>. Don't you +see what a powerful socializing force there is in the sense of +personal responsibility, if cultivated in the right direction? A +boy may be willing to take his chances on going to the +bad—economically and socially, as well as morally—if he +thinks that it is only his own personal concern. But he will +hesitate when you once impress upon him that, in doing so, he is +blocking the whole magnificent procession. My plan would be to +develop these boys' social efficiency by stamping upon them the +knowledge that the very humblest of them holds a trusteeship of +cosmic importance."</p> +<p>"I understand.... How splendid—not to practice sociology +on them, but to teach it to them—"</p> +<p>"But could we get the boys?"</p> +<p>She felt that the unconsciousness with which he took her into +partnership was one of the finest compliments that had ever been +paid her.</p> +<p>"Oh, I think so! The Department has all sorts of connections, as +well as lots of data which would be useful in that way. How Mr. +Dayne will welcome you as an ally! And I, too. I think it is fine +of you, Mr. Queed, so generous and kind, to—"</p> +<p>"Not at all! Not in the least! I beg you," he interrupted, +irritably, "not to go on misunderstanding me. I propose this simply +as an adjunct to my own work. It is simply in the nature of a +laboratory exercise. In five years the experiment might enable me +to check up some of my own conclusions, and so prove very valuable +to me."</p> +<p>"In the meantime the experiment will have done a great deal for +a certain number of poor boys—unfortunates on your +doorstep...."</p> +<p>"That," he said shortly, "is as it may be. But—"</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed," said Sharlee, "why are you honest in every way but +one? Why won't you admit that you have thought of this school +because you would like to do something to help in the life of this +town?"</p> +<p>"Because I am not doing anything of the sort! Why will you harp +on that one string? Good heavens! Aren't you yourself the author of +the sentiment that a sociologist ought to have some first-hand +knowledge of the problems of society?"</p> +<p>Standing, he gazed down at her, frowning insistently, bent upon +staring her out of countenance; and she looked up at him with a +Didymus smile which slowly grew. Presently his eyes fell.</p> +<p>"I cannot undertake," he said, in his stiffest way, "to analyze +all my motives at all times for your satisfaction. They have +nothing whatever to do with the present matter. The sole point up +for discussion is the practical question of getting such a school +started. Keep it in mind, will you? Give some thought as to ways +and means. Your experience with the Department should be helpful to +me in getting the plan launched."</p> +<p>"Certainly I will. If you don't object, I'll talk with Mr. Dayne +about it, too. He—"</p> +<p>"All right. I don't object. Well, good-night."</p> +<p>Sharlee rose and held out her hand. His expression, as he took +and shook it, suddenly changed.</p> +<p>"I suppose you think I have acquired the habit," he said, with +an abrupt recurrence of his embarrassment, "of coming to you for +counsel and assistance?"</p> +<p>"Well, why shouldn't you?" she answered seriously. "I have had +the opportunity and the time to learn some things—"</p> +<p>"You can't dismiss your kindness so easily as that."</p> +<p>"Oh, I don't think I have been particularly kind."</p> +<p>"Yes, you have. I admit that. You have."</p> +<p>He took the conversation with such painful seriousness that she +was glad to lighten it with a smile.</p> +<p>"If you persist in thinking so, you might feel like rewarding me +by coming to see me soon again."</p> +<p>"Yes, yes! I shall come to see you soon again. Certainly. Of +course," he added hastily, "it is desirable that I should talk with +you more at length about my school."</p> +<p>He was staring at her with a conflict of expressions in which, +curiously enough, pained bewilderment seemed uppermost. Sharlee +laughed, not quite at her ease.</p> +<p>"Do you know, I am still hoping that some day you will come to +see me, not to talk about anything definite—just to +talk."</p> +<p>"As to that," he replied, "I cannot say. Good-night."</p> +<p>Forgetting that he had already shaken hands, he now went through +with it again. This time the ceremony had unexpected results. For +now at the first touch of her hand, a sensation closely resembling +chain-lightning sprang up his arm, and tingled violently down +through all his person. It was as if his arm had not merely fallen +suddenly asleep, but was singing uproariously in its slumbers.</p> +<p>"I'm so glad you came," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>He retired in a confusion which he was too untrained to hide. At +the door he wheeled abruptly, and cleared himself, with a white +face, of evasions that were torturing his conscience.</p> +<p>"I will not say that a probable benefit to the boys <i>never</i> +entered into my thoughts about the school. Nor do I say that my +next visit will be <i>wholly</i> to talk about definite things, as +you put it. For part of the time, I daresay I should +like—just to talk."</p> +<p>Sharlee went upstairs, and stood for a long time gazing at +herself in the mirror. Vainly she tried to glean from it the answer +to a most interesting conundrum: Did Mr. Queed still think her very +beautiful?</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Recording a Discussion about the Reformatory between Editor +West and his Dog-like Admirer, the City Boss; and a Briefer +Conversation between West and Prof. Nicolovius's Boarder.</i></p> +</div> +<p>About one o'clock the telephone rang sharply, and Queed, just +arrived for the afternoon work and alone in the office, answered +it. It was the Rev. Mr. Dayne, Secretary of the Department of +Charities; he had learned that the reformatory bill was to be +called up in the house next day. The double-faced politicians of +the machine, said Mr. Dayne, with their pretended zeal for economy, +were desperately afraid of the Post. Would Mr. Queed be kind enough +to hit a final ringing blow for the right in to-morrow's paper?</p> +<p>"That our position to-day is as strong as it is," said the kind, +firm voice, "is due largely to your splendid work, Mr. Queed. I say +this gladly, and advisedly. If you will put your shoulder to the +wheel just once more, I am confident that you will push us through. +I shall be eternally grateful, and so will the State. For it is a +question of genuine moral importance to us all."</p> +<p>Mr. Dayne received assurance that Mr. Queed would do all that he +could for him. He left the telephone rather wishing that the +assistant editor could sometimes be inspired into verbal +enthusiasm. But of his abilities the Secretary did not entertain +the smallest doubt, and he felt that day that his long fight for +the reformatory was as good as won.</p> +<p>Hanging up the receiver, Queed leaned back in his swivel chair +and thoughtfully filled a pipe, which he smoked nowadays with an +experienced and ripened pleasure. At once he relapsed into absorbed +thought. Though he answered Mr. Dayne calmly and briefly according +to his wont, the young man's heart was beating faster with the +knowledge that he stood at the crisis of his longest and dearest +editorial fight. He expected to win it. The whole subject, from +every conceivable point of view, was at his fingers' ends. He knew +exactly what to say; his one problem was how to say it in the most +irresistible way possible.</p> +<p>Yet Queed, tilted back in his chair, and staring out over the +wet roofs, was not thinking of the reformatory. He was thinking, +not of public matters at all, but of the circumstances of his +curious life with Henry G. Surface; and his thoughts were not +agreeable in the least.</p> +<p>Not that he and the "old professor" did not get along well +together. It was really surprising how well they did get along. +Their dynamic interview of last June had at once been buried out of +sight, and since then their days had flowed along with unbroken +smoothness. If there had been times when the young man's thought +recoiled from the compact and the intimacy, his manner never +betrayed any sign of it. On the contrary, he found himself +mysteriously answering the growing dependence of the old man with a +growing sense of responsibility toward him, and discovering in the +process a curious and subtle kind of compensation.</p> +<p>What troubled Queed about Nicolovius—as the world called +him—was his money. He, Queed, was in part living on this +money, eating it, drinking it, sleeping on it. Of late the old man +had been spending it with increasing freedom, constantly enlarging +the comforts of the joint ménage. He had reached, in fact, a +scale of living which constantly thrust itself on Queed's +consciousness as quite beyond the savings of a poor old school +teacher. And if this appearance were true, where did the surplus +come from?</p> +<p>The question had knocked unpleasantly at the young man's mind +before now. This morning he faced it, and pondered deeply. A way +occurred to him by which, possibly, he might turn a little light +upon this problem. He did not care to take it; he shrank from doing +anything that might seem like spying upon the man whose bread he +broke thrice daily. Yet it seemed to him that a point had now been +reached where he owed his first duty to himself.</p> +<p>"Come in," he said, looking around in response to a brisk knock +upon his shut door; and there entered Plonny Neal, whom Queed, +through the Mercury, knew very well now.</p> +<p>"Hi there, Doc! Playin' you was Horace Greeley?"</p> +<p>Mr. Neal opened the connecting door into West's office, glanced +through, found it empty, and shut the door again. Whether he was +pleased or the reverse over this discovery, his immobile +countenance gave no hint; but the fact was that he had called +particularly to see West on a matter of urgent private +business.</p> +<p>"I was on the floor and thought I'd say howdy," he remarked +pleasantly. "Say, Doc, I been readin' them reformatory drools of +yours. Me and all the boys."</p> +<p>"I'm glad to hear it. They are certain to do you good."</p> +<p>Queed smiled. He had a genuine liking for Mr. Neal, which was +not affected by the fact that their views differed diametrically on +almost every subject under the sun.</p> +<p>Mr. Neal smiled, too, more enigmatically, and made a large +gesture with his unlighted cigar.</p> +<p>"I ain't had such good laughs since Tommy Walker, him that was +going to chase me out of the city f'r the tall timber, up and died. +But all the same, I hate to see a likely young feller sittin' up +nights tryin' to make a laughin' stock of himself."</p> +<p>"The last laughs are always the best, Mr. Neal. Did you ever try +any of them?"</p> +<p>"You're beat to a pappyer mash, and whistlin' to keep your +courage."</p> +<p>"Listen to my whistle day after to-morrow—"</p> +<p>But the door had shut on Mr. Neal, who had doubtless read +somewhere that the proper moment to terminate a call is on some +telling speech of one's own.</p> +<p>"I wonder what he's up to," mused Queed.</p> +<p>He brought his chair to horizontal and addressed himself to his +reformatory article. He sharpened his pencil; tangled his great +hand into his hair; and presently put down an opening sentence that +fully satisfied him, his own sternest critic. Then a memory of his +visitor returned to his mind, and he thought pleasurably:</p> +<p>"Plonny knows he is beaten. That's what's the matter with +him."</p> +<p>Close observers had often noted, however, that that was very +seldom the matter with Plonny, and bets as to his being beaten were +always to be placed with diffidence and at very long odds. Plonny +had no idea whatever of being beaten on the reformatory measure: on +the contrary, it was the reformatory measure which was to be +beaten. Possibly Mr. Neal was a white-souled patriot chafing under +threatened extravagance in an economy year. Possibly he was +impelled by more machine-like exigencies, such as the need of just +that hundred thousand dollars to create a few nice new berths for +the "organization." The man's motives are an immaterial detail. The +sole point worth remembering is that Plonny Neal had got it firmly +in his head that there should be no reformatory legislation that +year.</p> +<p>It was Mr. Neal's business to know men, and he was esteemed a +fine business man. Leaving the assistant editor, he sallied forth +to find the editor. It might have taken Queed an hour to put his +hand on West just then. Plonny did it in less than six minutes.</p> +<p>West was at Semple's (formerly Semple & West's), where he +looked in once a day just to see what the market was doing. This +was necessary, as he sometimes explained, in order that the +<i>Post</i>'s financial articles might have that authoritativeness +which the paper's position demanded. West enjoyed the good man-talk +at Semple's; the atmosphere of frank, cheery commercialism made a +pleasant relief from the rarer altitudes of the uplift. He stood +chatting gayly with a group of habitués, including some of +the best known men of the town. All greeted Plonny pleasantly, West +cordially. None of our foreign critics can write that the American +man is a moral prude. On two occasions, Plonny had been vindicated +before the grand jury by the narrow margin of one vote. Yet he was +much liked as a human sinner who had no pretenses about him, and +who told a good story surpassingly well.</p> +<p>Ten minutes later Mr. Neal and Mr. West met in a private room at +Berringer's, having arrived thither by different routes. Over a +table, the door shut against all-comers, Mr. Neal went at once to +the point, apologizing diffidently for a "butting in" which Mr. +West might resent, but which he, Mr. West's friend, could no longer +be restrained from. The <i>Post</i>, he continued, had been going +along splendidly—"better'n under Cowles even—everybody +says so—" and then, to the sorrow and disappointment of the +new editor's admirers, up had come this dashed old reformatory +business and spoiled everything.</p> +<p>West, whose thoughts had unconsciously run back to his last +private talk with Plonny—the talk about getting in +line—good-naturedly asked his friend if he was really lined +up with the wire-pulling moss-backs who were fighting the +reformatory bill.</p> +<p>"You just watch me and see," said Plonny, with humorous +reproachfulness. "No charge f'r lookin', and rain checks given in +case of wet grounds."</p> +<p>"Then for once in your life, anyhow, you've called the turn +wrong, Plonny. This institution is absolutely necessary for the +moral and social upbuilding of the State. It would be necessary if +it cost five times one hundred thousand dollars, and it's as sure +to come as judgment day."</p> +<p>"Ain't it funny!" mused Plonny. "Take a man like you, with fine +high ideas and all, and let anything come up and pass itself off +f'r a maw'l question and he'll go off half-cocked ten times out of +ten."</p> +<p>"Half-cocked!" laughed West. "We've been studying this question +three years."</p> +<p>"Yes, and began your studies with your minds all made up."</p> +<p>Plonny fastened upon the young man a gaze in which superior +wisdom struggled unsuccessfully with overwhelming affection. "You +know what it is, Mr. West? You've been took in, you've bit on a con +game like a hungry pike. Excuse my speaking so plain, but I told +you a long time ago I was mightily interested in you."</p> +<p>"Speak as plain as you like, Plonny. In fact, my only request at +the moment is that you will speak plainer still. Who is it that has +taken me in, and who is working this little con game you +mention?"</p> +<p>"Rev. George Dayne of the Charities," said Plonny at once. "You +mentioned wire-pulling just now. Lemme tell you that in the Rev. +George you got the champeen wire-puller of the lot, the king +politician of them all—the only one in this town, I do +believe, could have thrown a bag as neat over <i>your</i> head, Mr. +West."</p> +<p>"Why, Plonny! Much learning has made you mad! I know Dayne like +a book, and he's as straightforward a fellow as ever lived."</p> +<p>Mr. Neal let his eyes fall to the table-top and indulged in a +slow smile, which he appeared to be struggling courteously, but +without hope, to suppress.</p> +<p>"O' course you got a right to your opinion, Mr. West."</p> +<p>A brief silence ensued, during which a tiny imp of memory +whispered into West's ear that Miss Weyland herself had commented +on the Rev. Mr. Dayne's marvelous gifts as a lobbyist.</p> +<p>"I'm a older man than you," resumed Neal, with precarious +smilelessness, "and mebbe I've seen more of practical poltix. It +would be a strange thing, you might say, if at my time of life, I +didn't know a politician when I passed him in the road. Still, +don't you take my word for it. I'm only repeating what others say +when I tell you that Parson Dayne wants to be Governor of this +State some day. That surprises you a little, hey? You was kind of +thinking that 'Rev.' changed the nature of a man, and that ambition +never thought of keeping open f'r business under a high-cut vest, +now wasn't you? Well, I've seen funny things in my time. I'd say +that the parson wants this reformatory some f'r the good of the +State, and mostly f'r the good of Mr. Dayne. Give it to him, with +the power of appointing employees—add this to what he's +already got—and in a year he'll have the prettiest little +private machine ever you did see. I don't ask you to believe me. +All I ask is f'r you to stick a pin in what I say, and see 'f it +don't come true."</p> +<p>West mused, impressed against his will. "You're wrong, Plonny, +in my opinion, and if you were ten times right, what of it? You +seem to think that the <i>Post</i> is advocating this reformatory +because Dayne has asked for it. The <i>Post</i> is doing nothing of +the sort. It is advocating the reformatory because it has studied +this question to the bottom for itself, because it +knows—"</p> +<p>"Right! Good f'r you!" exclaimed Mr. Neal, much gratified. +"That's just what I tell the boys when they say you're playin' +poltix with the little dominie. And that," said he, briskly, "is +just why I'm <i>for</i> the reformatory, in spite of Rev. Dayne's +little games."</p> +<p>"You're for it! You said just now that you were opposed to +it."</p> +<p>"Not to the reformatory, Mr. West. Not at all. I'm only opposed +to spending a hundred thousand dollars for it in a poverty +year."</p> +<p>"Oh! You want the reformatory, but you don't want it now. That's +where you stand, is it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, and everybody else that understands just what the +situation is. I believe in this reformatory—the <i>Post</i> +converted me, that's a fact—and if you'll only let her stand +two years, take my word for it, she'll go through with a whoop. But +if you're going to hurry the thing—"</p> +<p>"What's your idea of hurry exactly? The war has been over forty +years—"</p> +<p>"And look how splendid we've got along these forty years without +the reformatory! Will you care to say, Mr. West, that we couldn't +make it forty-two without bringing great danger to the State?"</p> +<p>"No, certainly not. But the point is—"</p> +<p>"The point is that if we spend all this money now, the people +will kick the party out at the next election. I wouldn't admit this +to many, 'cause I'm ashamed of it, but it's gospel truth. Mr. +West," said Plonny, earnestly, "I <i>know</i> you want the +<i>Post</i> to stand for the welfare of the party—"</p> +<p>"Certainly. And it has been my idea that evidence of sane +interest in public morals was a pretty good card for—"</p> +<p>"So it would be at any ordinary time. But it's mighty different +when the people from one end of the State to the other are howling +economy and saying that all expenses must go to bed-rock or they'll +know the reason why. There's the practical side of it—look at +it f'r a minute. The legislature was elected by these people on a +platform promising strictest economy. They're tryin' to carry out +their promise faithfully. They turn down and postpone some mighty +good plans to advance the progress of the State. They rejuice +salaries in various departments"—(one was the exact +number)—"heelers come up lookin' f'r jobs, and they send 'em +away empty-handed and sore. Old-established institutions, that have +been doin' grand work upbuildin' the State f'r years, are told that +they must do with a half or three quarters of their appropriations +f'r the next two years. You've seen all this happen, Mr. West?"</p> +<p>West admitted that he had.</p> +<p>"Well, now when everything is goin' smooth and promisin', you +come along and tell 'em they got to shell out a <i>hundred</i> +<i>thousand dollars</i> right away f'r a brand-new institution, +with an annual appropriation to keep it up. Now s'pose they do what +you tell 'em. What happens? You think there's no poltix at all in +this reformatory business, but I can tell you the Republicans won't +take such a view as that. They'll say that the party spent a +hundred thousand dollars of the people's money in a hard times +year, just to make a few more jobs f'r favorites. They'll throw +that up at us from every stump in the State. And when our leaders +explain that it was done for the maw'l good of the State, they'll +give us the laugh—same as they did when we established the +Foundling Hospital in '98. Now I tell you the party can't stand any +talk of that kind this year. We're on shaky ground right now f'r +the same reason that we're all so proud of—spendin' money f'r +the maw'l uplift of the State. We either got to slow up f'r awhile +or take a licking. That's what all the talk comes down to—one +simple question: Will we hold off this big expense f'r just two +years, or will we send the old party down to defeat?"</p> +<p>West laughed, not quite comfortably.</p> +<p>In all this dialogue, Mr. Neal had over him the enormous +advantage of exact and superior knowledge. To tell the truth, West +knew very little about the reformatory situation, and considered +it, among the dozens of matters in which he was interested, rather +a small issue. Having turned the campaign over to his assistant, he +had dismissed it from his mind; and beyond his general conviction +that the reformatory would be a good thing for the State, he had +only the sketchiest acquaintance with the arguments that were being +used pro and con. Therefore Plonny Neal's passionate earnestness +surprised him, and Plonny's reasoning, which he knew to be the +reasoning of the thoroughly informed State leaders, impressed him +very decidedly. Of the boss's sincerity he never entertained a +doubt; to question that candid eye was impossible. That Plonny had +long been watching him with interest and admiration, West knew very +well. It began to look to him very much as though Queed, through +excess of sociological zeal, had allowed himself to be misled, and +that the paper's advanced position was founded on theory without +reference to existing practical conditions.</p> +<p>West keenly felt the responsibility of his post. To safeguard +and promote the welfare of the Democratic party had long been a +cardinal principle of the paper whose utterances he now controlled. +Still, it must be true that Neal was painting the situation in +colors altogether too black.</p> +<p>"You're a pretty good stump performer yourself, Plonny. Don't +you know that exactly the same argument will be urged two years +from now?"</p> +<p>"I know it won't," said Plonny with the calmness of absolute +conviction. "A fat legislature <i>always</i> follows a lean one. +They come in strips, same as a shoulder of bacon."</p> +<p>"Well! I wouldn't think much of a party whose legs were so weak +that a little step forward—everybody knows <i>it's</i> +forward—would tumble it over in a heap."</p> +<p>"The party! I ain't thinking of the <i>party</i>, Mr. West. I'm +thinking," said Neal, the indignation in his voice giving way to a +sudden apologetic softness, "of you."</p> +<p>"Me? What on earth have I got to do with it?" asked West, rather +touched by the look of dog-like affection in the other's eyes.</p> +<p>"Everything. If the party gets let in for this extravagance, +you'll be the man who did it."</p> +<p>There was a silence, and then West said, rather nobly:</p> +<p>"Well, I suppose I will have to stand that. I must do what I +think is right, you know, and take the consequences."</p> +<p>"Two years from now," said Mr. Neal, gently, "there wouldn't be +no consequences."</p> +<p>"Possibly not," said West, in a firm voice.</p> +<p>"While the consequences now," continued Mr. Neal, still more +gently, "would be to put you in very bad with the party leaders. +Fine men they are, but they never forgive a man who puts a crimp +into the party. You'd be a marked man to the longest day you +lived!"</p> +<p>"Well, Plonny! I'm not asking anything of the party +leaders—"</p> +<p>"But suppose some of your friends wanted to ask something for +<i>you</i>?"</p> +<p>Suddenly Plonny leaned over the table, and began speaking +rapidly and earnestly.</p> +<p>"Listen here, Mr. West. I understand your feelings and your +position just like they was print, and I was reading them over your +shoulder. You're walking with y'r eyes on the skies, and you don't +like to look at the ground to see that you don't break nothing as +you go forward. Your mind's full of the maw'l idea and desire to +uplift the people, and it's kind of painful to you to stop and look +at the plain practical way by which things get done. But I tell you +that everybody who ever got anything big done in this world, got it +done in a practical way. All the big men that you and I +admire—all the public leaders and governors and reform mayors +and so on—got where they have by doing practical good in a +practical way. Now, you don't like me to say that if you do +so-and-so, you'll be in bad with the State leaders, f'r that looks +to you as if I thought you could be infloonced by what would be +your personal advantage. And I honor you f'r them feelin's which is +just what I knew you'd had, or I wouldn't be here talkin' to you +now. But you mustn't blame others if they ain't as partic'lar, +mebbe, as to how things might <i>look</i>. You mustn't blame y'r +friends—and you've got a sight more of them than you have any +idea of—if they feel all broke up to see you get in bad, both +for your own sake and f'r the sake of the party."</p> +<p>Plonny's voice trembled with earnestness; West had had no idea +that the man admired him so much.</p> +<p>"You want to serve the people, Mr. West? How could you do it +better than in public orf'ce. Lemme talk to you straight f'r +once—will you? Or am I only offendin' you by buttin' in this +way, without having ever been asked?"</p> +<p>West gave his admirer the needed assurance.</p> +<p>"I'm glad of it, f'r I can hardly keep it in my system any +longer. Listen here, Mr. West. As you may have heard, there's to be +a primary f'r city orf'cers in June. Secret ballot or no secret +ballot, the organization's going to win. You know that. Now, who'll +the organization put up f'r Mayor? From what I hear, they dassen't +put up any old machine hack, same's they been doin' f'r years. They +might want to do it, but they're a-scared the people won't stand +f'r it. From what little I hear, the feelin's strong that they +<i>got</i> to put up some young progressive public-spirited man of +the reformer type. Now s'posin' the friends of a certain fine young +man, sittin' not a hundred miles from this table, had it in their +minds to bring <i>him</i> forward f'r the nomination. This young +man might say he wasn't seekin' the orf'ce and didn't want it, but +I say public orf'ce is a duty, and no man that wants to serve the +people can refuse it, partic'larly when he may be needed to save +the party. And now I ask you this, Mr. West: What show would the +friends of this young man have, if he had a bad spot on his record? +What chance'd there be of namin' to lead the party in the city the +<i>man who had knifed the party in the State</i>?"</p> +<p>West's chin rested upon his hand; his gaze fell dreamily upon +the table-top. Before his mind's eye there had unrolled a favorite +vision—a white meadow of faces focussed breathlessly upon a +great orator. He recalled himself with a start, a stretch, and a +laugh.</p> +<p>"Aren't you wandering rather carelessly into the future, +Plonny?"</p> +<p>"If I am," said Mr. Neal, solemnly, "it's because you stand at +the crossroads to-day."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>West found the office deserted, his assistant being gone for +lunch. He finished two short articles begun earlier in the day, and +himself departed with an eye to food. Later, he had to attend a +couple of board meetings, which ran off into protracted by-talk, +and the rainy twilight had fallen before his office knew him +again.</p> +<p>Not long after, Queed, already hatted and overcoated to go, +pushed open the connecting door and entered. The two chatted a +moment of the make-up of next day's "page." Presently West said: +"By the bye, written anything about the reformatory?"</p> +<p>"Anything!" echoed Queed, with a faint smile. "You might say +that I've written everything about it—the best article I ever +wrote, I should say. It's our last chance, you know."</p> +<p>Queed thought of Eva Bernheimer, and a light crept into his +ordinarily impassive eye. At the same time, West's ordinarily +buoyant face fell a little.</p> +<p>"That so? Let me see how you've handled it, will you?"</p> +<p>"Certainly," said Queed, showing no surprise, though it was many +a day since any composition of his had undergone supervision in +that office.</p> +<p>It was on the tip of West's tongue to add, "I rather think we've +been pressing that matter too hard," but he checked himself. Why +should he make any explanation to his assistant? Was it not the +fact that he had trusted the young man too far already?</p> +<p>Queed brought his article and laid it on West's desk, his face +very thoughtful now. "If there is any information I can give you +about the subject, I'll wait."</p> +<p>West hardly repressed a smile. "Thank you, I think I understand +the situation pretty well."</p> +<p>Still Queed lingered and hesitated, most unlike himself. +Presently he strolled over to the window and looked down unseeingly +into the lamp-lit wetness of Centre Street. In fact, he was the +poorest actor in the world, and never pretended anything, actively +or passively, without being unhappy.</p> +<p>"It's raining like the mischief," he offered uncomfortably.</p> +<p>"Cats and dogs," said West, his fingers twiddling with Queed's +copy.</p> +<p>"By the way," said Queed, turning with a poorly done air of +casualness, "what is commonly supposed to have become of Henry G. +Surface? Do people generally believe that he is dead?"</p> +<p>"Bless your heart, no!" said West, looking up in some surprise +at the question. "That kind never die. They invariably live to a +green old age—green like the bay-tree."</p> +<p>"I—have gotten very much interested in his story," said +Queed, which was certainly true enough. "Where do people think that +he is now?"</p> +<p>"Oh, in the West somewhere, living like a fat hog off Miss +Weyland's money."</p> +<p>Queed's heart lost a beat. An instinct, swift as a reflex, +turned him to the window again; he feared that his face might +commit treason. A curious contraction and hardening seemed to be +going on inside of him, a chilling petrifaction, and this sensation +remained; but in the next instant he felt himself under perfect +control, and was calmly saying:—</p> +<p>"Why, I thought the courts took all the money he had."</p> +<p>"They took all they could find. If you've studied high finance +you'll appreciate the distinction." Amiably West tapped the +table-top with the long point of his pencil, and wished that Queed +would restore him his privacy. "Everybody thought at the time, you +know, that he had a hundred thousand or so put away where the +courts never got hold of it. The general impression was that he'd +somehow smuggled it over to the woman he'd been living +with—his wife", he said. "She died, I believe, but probably +our friend Surface, when he got out, hadn't the slightest trouble +in putting his hands on the money."</p> +<p>"No, I suppose not. An interesting story, isn't it? You'll +telephone if you need anything to-night?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I shan't need anything. The page is shaping up very +satisfactorily, I think. Good-night, my dear fellow."</p> +<p>Left alone, West picked up Queed's closely-written sheets, and +leaning back in his chair read them with the closest attention. +Involuntarily, his intellect paid a tribute to the writer as he +read. The article was masterly. The argument was close and swift, +the language impassioned, the style piquant. "Where did he learn to +write like that!" wondered West. Here was the whole subject +compressed into half a column, and so luminous a half column that +the dullest could not fail to understand and admire. Two sarcastic +little paragraphs were devoted to stripping the tatters from the +nakedness of the economy argument, and these Mr. Queed's chief +perused twice.</p> +<p>"The talk of a doctrinaire," mused he presently. "The closet +philosopher's ideas. How far afield from the real situation +..."</p> +<p>It was a most fortunate thing, he reflected, that he himself had +means of getting exact and accurate information at first hand. +Suppose that he had not, that, like some editors, he had simply +passed this article in without examination and correction. It would +have made the <i>Post</i> ridiculous, and decidedly impaired its +reputation for common sense and fair play. Whatever should or +should not be said, this was certainly no way to talk of honest +men, who were trying to conserve the party and who differed from +the <i>Post</i> only on an unimportant question of detail.</p> +<p>West leaned back in his chair and stared at the farther wall.... +For that was exactly what it was—an unimportant detail. The +important thing, the one thing that he himself had insisted on, was +that the State should have a reformatory. Whether the State had it +now or two years from now, made relatively little difference, +except to those who, like his editorial assistant, had sunk +themselves in the question till their sense of proportion had +deserted them. Was not that a fair statement of the case? Whatever +he did, he must not let his views be colored by probable effects +upon his own future.... Surely, to wait two brief years for the +institution, with the positive assurance of it then, could be no +hardship to a State which had got along very well without it for +all the years of its lifetime. Surely not. Plonny Neal, whose sharp +horse sense he would back against any man in the State, was +absolutely sound there.</p> +<p>He tried to consider the question with chill judiciality, and +believed that he was doing so. But the fervor which Plonny had +imparted to it, and the respect which he had for Plonny's knowledge +of practical conditions, stood by him, unconsciously guiding his +thoughts along the line of least resistance.... Though nobody dared +admit it publicly, the party was facing a great crisis; and it was +in his hand to save or to wreck it. All eyes were anxiously on the +<i>Post</i>, which wielded the decisive power. The people had risen +with the unreasonable demand that progress be checked for a time, +because of the cost of it. The leaders had responded to the best of +their ability, but necessary expenses were so great that it was +going to be a narrow shave at best—so narrow that another +hundred thousand spent would land the whole kettle of fish in the +fire. The grand old party would go crashing down the precipice. Was +not that a criminal price to pay for getting a reformatory +institution two years before the people were ready to pay for it? +There was the whole question in a nutshell.</p> +<p>The one unpleasant aspect of this view was Sharlee Weyland, the +dearest girl in the world. She would be much disappointed, and, for +the first moment, would possibly be somewhat piqued with him +personally. He knew that women were extremely unreasonable about +these things; they looked at affairs from the emotional point of +view, from the point of view of the loose, large "effect." But +Sharlee Weyland was highly intelligent and sensible, and he had not +the smallest doubt of his ability to make her understand what the +unfortunate situation was. He could not tell her +everything—Plonny had cautioned secrecy about the real +gravity of the crisis—but he would tell her enough to show +her how he had acted, with keen regrets, from his sternest sense of +public duty. It was a cruel stroke of fate's that his must be the +hand to bring disappointment to the girl he loved, but after all, +would she not be the first to say that he must never put his regard +for her preferences above the larger good of City and State? He +could not love her, dear, so well, loved he not honor more.</p> +<p>He picked up Queed's article and glanced again at the +astonishing words, words which, invested with the <i>Post's</i> +enormous prestige, simply kicked and cuffed the party to its ruin. +A wave of resentment against his assistant swept through the +editor's mind. This was what came of trusting anything to anybody +else. If you wanted to be sure that things were done right, do them +yourself. Because he had allowed Queed a little rope, that young +man had industriously gathered in almost enough to hang, not +himself, for he was nothing, but the <i>Post</i> and its editor. +However, there was no use crying over spilt milk. What was done was +done. Fortunately, the <i>Post's</i> general position was sound; +had not the editor himself dictated it? If the expression of that +position in cold type had been gradually carried by a subordinate +to a more and more violent extreme, to an intemperance of utterance +which closely approached insanity, what was it the editor's duty to +do? Obviously to take charge himself and swing the position back to +a safe and sane mean, exactly where he had placed it to begin with. +That was all that was asked of him—to shift back the paper's +position to where he had placed it in the beginning, and by so +doing to save the party from wreck. Could a sensible man hesitate +an instant? And in return....</p> +<p>West's gaze wandered out of the window, and far on into the +beyond.... His friends were watching him, silently but fearfully. +Who and what these friends were his swift thought did not stay to +ask. His glamorous fancy saw them as a great anxious throng, +dominant men, yet respectful, who were trembling lest he should +make a fatal step—to answer for it with his political life. +Public life—he rejected the term political life—was of +all things what he was preeminently fitted for. How else could a +man so fully serve his fellows?—how so surely and strongly +promote the uplift? And Plonny Neal had served notice on him that +he stood to-day on the crossroads to large public usefulness. The +czar of them all, the great Warwick who made and unmade kings by +the lifting of his finger, had told him, as plain as language could +speak, that he, West, was his imperial choice for the mayoralty, +with all that that foreshadowed.... Truly, he had served his +apprenticeship, and was meet for his opportunity. For eight long +months he had stood in line, doing his duty quietly and well, +asking no favor of anybody. And now at last Warwick had beckoned +him and set the mystic star upon his forehead....</p> +<p>Iridescent visionry enwrapped the young man, and he swam in it +goldenly. In time his spirit returned to his body, and he found +himself leaning back in a very matter-of-fact chair, facing a very +plain question. How could the shifting back, the rationalizing, of +the paper's position be accomplished with the minimum of shock? How +could he rescue the party with the least possible damage to the +<i>Post's</i> consistency?</p> +<p>West went to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, pulled +out a large folder marked, <i>Reformatory</i>, and, returning to +his seat, ran hurriedly through the <i>Post's</i> editorials on +this subject during the past twelvemonth. Over some of the phrases +he ground his teeth. They floated irritatingly in his head as he +once more leaned back in his chair and frowned at the opposite +wall.</p> +<p>Gradually there took form in his mind a line of reasoning which +would appear to grow with some degree of naturalness out of what +had gone before, harmonizing the basic continuity of the +<i>Post's</i> attitude, and minimizing the change in present angle +or point of view. His fertile mind played about it, strengthening +it, building it up, polishing and perfecting; and in time he began +to write, at first slowly, but soon with fluent ease.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>In which Queed forces the Old Professor's Hand, and the Old +Professor takes to his Bed.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Raincoat buttoned to his throat, Queed set his face against the +steady downpour. It was a mild, windless night near the end of +February, foreshadowing the early spring already nearly due. He had +no umbrella, or wish for one: the cool rain in his face was a +refreshment and a vivifier.</p> +<p>So the worst had come to the worst, and he had been living for +nearly a year on Sharlee Weyland's money, stolen from her by her +father's false friend. Wormwood and gall were the fruits that +altruism had borne him. Two casual questions had brought out the +shameful truth, and these questions could have been asked as easily +a year ago as now.</p> +<p>Bitterly did the young man reproach himself now, for his +criminal carelessness in regard to the sources of Surface's +luxurious income. For the better part of a year he had known the +old man for an ex-convict whose embezzlings had run high into six +figures. Yet he had gone on fatuously swallowing the story that the +money of which the old rogue was so free represented nothing but +the savings of a thrifty schoolteacher. A dozen things came back to +him now to give the lie to that tale. He thought of the costly +books that Surface was constantly buying; the expensive repairs he +had made in his rented house; the wine that stood on the +dinner-table every night; the casual statement from the old man +that he meant to retire from the school at the end of the present +session. Was there ever a teacher who could live like this after a +dozen years' roving work? And the probability was that Surface had +never worked at all until, returning to his own city, he had needed +a position as a cover and a blind.</p> +<p>Mathematical computations danced through the young man's brain. +He figured that their present scale of living must run anywhere +from $3500 to $5000 a year. Surface's income from the school was +known to be $900 a year. His income from his lodger was $390 a +year. This difference between, say $4000 and $1290, was $2710 a +year, or 4 per cent on some $70,000. And this tidy sum was being +filched from the purse of Charlotte Lee Weyland, who worked for her +living at an honorarium of $75 a month.</p> +<p>Queed walked with his head lowered, bent less against the rain +than his own stinging thoughts. At the corner of Seventh Street a +knot of young men, waiting under a dripping awning for a car that +would not come, cried out gayly to the Doc; they were Mercuries; +but the Doc failed to respond to their greetings, or even to hear +them. He crossed the humming street, northerly, with an experienced +sureness acquired since his exploit with the dog Behemoth; and so +came into his own section of the town.</p> +<p>He was an apostle of law who of all things loved harmony. +Already his mind was busily at work seeking to restore order out of +the ruins of his house. Obviously the first thing to do, the one +thing that could not wait an hour, was to get his sense of honesty +somehow back again. He must compel Surface to hand over to Miss +Weyland immediately every cent of money that he had. The delivery +could be arranged easily enough, without any sensational +revelations. The letter to Miss Weyland could come from a lawyer in +the West; in Australia, if the old man liked; that didn't matter. +The one thing that did matter was that he should immediately make +restitution as fully as lay within the power of them both.</p> +<p>Surface, of course, would desperately resist such a suggestion. +Queed knew of but one club which could drive him to agree to it, +one goad which could rowel him to the height. This was his own +continued companionship. He could compel Surface to disgorgement +only at the price of a new offering of himself to the odious old +man who had played false with him as with everybody else. Queed did +not hesitate. At the moment every cost seemed small to clear his +dearest belonging, which was his personal honesty, of this stain. +As for Surface, nothing could make him more detestable in a moral +sense than he had been all along. He had been a thief and a liar +from the beginning. Once the cleansing storm was over, their +unhappy domestic union could go on much as it had done before.</p> +<p>For his part, he must at once set about restoring his half of +the joint living expenses consumed during the past nine months. +This money could be passed in through the lawyer with the rest, so +that she would never know. Obviously, he would have to make more +money than he was making now, which meant that he would have to +take still more time from his book. There were his original tax +articles in the <i>Post</i>, which a publisher had asked him at the +time to work over into a primer for college use. There might be a +few hundreds to be made there. He could certainly place some +articles in the reviews. If for the next twelve months he +ruthlessly eliminated everything from his life that did not bring +in money, he could perhaps push his earnings for the next year to +three thousand dollars, which would be enough to see him +through....</p> +<p>And busy with thoughts like these, he came home to Surface's +pleasant little house, and was greeted by the old man with kindness +and good cheer.</p> +<p>It was dinner-time—for they dined at night now, in some +state—and they sat down to four dainty courses, cooked and +served by the capable Henderson. The table was a round one, so +small that the two men could have shaken hands across it without +the smallest exertion. By old Surface's plate stood a gold-topped +bottle, containing, not the ruddy burgundy which had become +customary of late, but sparkling champagne. Surface referred to it, +gracefully, as his medicine; doctors, he said, were apparently +under the delusion that schoolmasters had bottomless purses. To +this pleasantry Queed made no reply. He was, indeed, spare with his +remarks that evening, and his want of appetite grieved old +Henderson sorely.</p> +<p>The servant brought the coffee and retired. He would not be back +again till he was rung for: that was the iron rule. The kitchen was +separated from the dining-room by a pantry and two doors. Thus the +diners were as private as they were ever likely to be in this +world, and in the breast of one of them was something that would +brook no more delay.</p> +<p>"Professor," said this one, with a face which gave no sign of +inner turmoil, "I find myself obliged to refer once more +to—an unwelcome subject."</p> +<p>Surface was reaching for his coffee cup; he was destined never +to pick it up. His hand fell; found the edge of the table; his long +fingers gripped and closed over it.</p> +<p>"Ah?" he said easily, not pretending to doubt what subject was +meant. "I'm sorry. I thought that we had laid the old ghosts for +good."</p> +<p>"I thought so, too. I was mistaken, it seems."</p> +<p>Across the table, the two men looked at each other. To Surface, +the subject must indeed have been the most unwelcome imaginable, +especially when forced upon him with so ominous a directness. Yet +his manner was the usual bland mask; his face, rather like a bad +Roman senator's in the days of the decline, had undergone no +perceptible change.</p> +<p>"When I came here to live with you," said Queed, "I understood, +of course, that you would be contributing several times as much +toward our joint expenses as I. To a certain degree, you would be +supporting me. Naturally, I did not altogether like that. But you +constantly assured me, you may remember, that you would rather put +your savings into a home than anything else, that you could not +manage it without my assistance, and that you considered my +companionship as fully offsetting the difference in the money we +paid. So I became satisfied that the arrangement was honorable to +us both."</p> +<p>Surface spoke with fine courtesy. "All this is so true, your +contribution toward making our house a home has been so much +greater than my own, that I feel certain nothing can have happened +to disturb your satisfaction."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Queed. "I have assumed all the time that the money +you were spending here was your own."</p> +<p>There was a silence. Queed looked at the table-cloth. He had +just become aware that his task was hateful to him. The one thing +to do was to get it over as swiftly and decisively as possible.</p> +<p>"I am at a loss," said the old man, dryly, "to understand where +the assumption comes in, in view of the fact that I have stated, +more than once—"</p> +<p>"I am forced to tell you that I cannot accept these +statements."</p> +<p>For a moment the brilliant eyes looked dangerous. "Are you aware +that your language is exceedingly offensive?"</p> +<p>"Yes. I'm very sorry. Nevertheless, this tooth must come out. It +has suddenly become apparent to me that you must be spending here +the income on hardly less than seventy-five thousand dollars. Do +you seriously ask me to believe, now that I directly bring up the +matter, that you amassed this by a few years of +school-teaching?"</p> +<p>Surface lit a cigarette, and, taking a slow puff, looked +unwinkingly into the young man's eyes, which looked as steadily +back into his own. "You are mistaken in assuming," he said sternly, +"that, in giving you my affection, I have given you any right to +cross-examine me in—"</p> +<p>"Yes, you gave it to me when you invited me to your house as, in +part, your guest—"</p> +<p>"I am behind the times, indeed, if it is esteemed the privilege +of a guest to spy upon his host."</p> +<p>"That," said Queed, quietly, "is altogether unjust. You must +know that I am not capable of spying on you. I have, on the +contrary, been culpably short-sighted. Never once have I doubted +anything you told me until you yourself insisted on rubbing doubts +repeatedly into my eyes. Professor," he went on rapidly, "are you +aware that those familiar with your story say that, when +you—that, after your misfortune, you started life again with +a bank account of between one and two hundred thousand +dollars?"</p> +<p>The black eyes lit up like two shoe-buttons in the sunlight. +"That is a wicked falsehood, invented at the time by a lying +reporter—"</p> +<p>"Do you assert that everything you have now has been earned +since your misfortune?"</p> +<p>"Precisely that."</p> +<p>The voice was indignantly firm, but Queed, looking into the old +man's face, read there as plain as day that he was lying.</p> +<p>"Think a moment," he said sorrowfully. "This is pretty serious, +you see. Are you absolutely sure that you carried over nothing at +all?"</p> +<p>"In the sight of God, I did not. But let me tell you, my +friend—"</p> +<p>A chair-leg scraped on the carpeted floor, and Queed was +standing, playing his trump card with a grim face.</p> +<p>"We must say good-by, Professor—now. I'll send for my +things in the morning."</p> +<p>"What do you mean, you—"</p> +<p>"That you and I part company to-night. Good-by."</p> +<p>"Stop!" cried Surface. He rose, greatly excited and leaned over +the table. A faint flush drove the yellow from his cheek; his eyes +were blazing. He shook a menacing finger at close range in Queed's +face, which remained entirely unmoved by the demonstration.</p> +<p>"So this is the reward of my kindness and affection! I won't +endure it, do you understand? I won't be kicked into the gutter +like an old shoe, do you hear? Sit down in that chair. I forbid you +to leave the house."</p> +<p>Queed's gaze was more formidable than his own. "Mr. Surface," he +said, in a peculiarly quiet voice, "you forget yourself strangely. +You are in no position to speak to me like this."</p> +<p>Surface appeared suddenly to agree with him. He fell back into +his chair and dropped his face into his hands.</p> +<p>Queed, standing where he was, watched him across the tiny +dinner-table and, against his reason, felt very sorry. How +humiliating this ripping up of old dishonor was to the proud old +man, rogue though he was, he understood well enough. From nobody in +the world but him, he knew, would Surface ever have suffered it to +proceed as far as this, and this knowledge made him want to handle +the knife with as little roughness as possible.</p> +<p>"I—was wrong," said the muffled voice. "I ask your +forgiveness for my outbreak."</p> +<p>"You have it."</p> +<p>Surface straightened himself up, and, by an obvious effort, +managed to recapture something like his usual smoothness of voice +and manner.</p> +<p>"Will you be good enough to sit down? I will tell you what you +wish."</p> +<p>"Certainly. Thank you."</p> +<p>Queed resumed his seat. His face was a little pale, but +otherwise just as usual. Inwardly, after the moment of critical +uncertainty, he was shaken by a tempest of fierce exultation. His +club, after all, was going to be strong enough; the old man would +give up the money rather than give up him.</p> +<p>Surface picked up his cigarette. All his storm signals had +disappeared as by magic.</p> +<p>"I did manage," began the old man, flicking off his ash with an +admirable effect of calm, "to save a small nest-egg from the wreck, +to keep me from the poorhouse in my old age. I did not wish to tell +you this because, with your lack of acquaintance with business +methods, the details would only confuse, and possibly mislead, you. +I had, too, another reason for wishing to keep it a surprise. You +have forced me, against my preferences, to tell you. As to this +small pittance," he said, without the flicker of an eye-lash, "any +court in the country would tell you that it is fairly and honorably +mine."</p> +<p>"Thank you. I appreciate your telling me this." Queed leaned +over the table, and began speaking in a quiet, brisk voice. "Now, +then, here is the situation. You have a certain sum of money put +away somewhere, estimated to be not less than a hundred thousand +dollars—"</p> +<p>"Nothing of the sort! Far less than that! A few beggarly +thousands, which—"</p> +<p>"Very well—a few thousands. Of course your books will +readily show the exact figures. This money was withheld at the time +your affairs were settled, and therefore was not applied to +reducing the—the loss on the trustee account. Of course, if +its existence had been known, it would have been so applied. In +other words, the Weyland estate has been deprived to the exact +extent of the sum withheld. Fortunately, it is never too late to +correct an error of this sort. My idea is that we should make the +restitution without the loss of an unnecessary day."</p> +<p>Doubtless the old man had seen it coming; he heard the galling +proposal with a face which showed nothing stronger than profound +surprise. "Restitution! My dear boy, I owe no restitution to any +one."</p> +<p>"You hardly take the position that you have acquired a title to +the Weyland trustee funds?"</p> +<p>"Ah, there it is!" purred Surface, making a melancholy gesture. +"You see why I did not wish to open up this complicated subject. +Your ignorance, if you will pardon me, of modern business +procedure, makes it very difficult for you to grasp the matter in +its proper bearings. Without going into too much detail, let me try +to explain it to you. This settlement of my affairs that you speak +of was forcibly done by the courts, in the interest of others, and +to my great injury. The rascals set out to cut my throat—was +it required of me to whet the knife for them? They set out to strip +me of the last penny I had, and they had every advantage, despotic +powers, with complete access to all my private papers. If the +robbers overlooked something that I had, a bagatelle I needed for +the days of my adversity, was it my business to pluck them by the +sleeve and turn traitor to myself? Why, the law itself gave me what +they passed over. I was declared a bankrupt. Don't you know what +that means? It means that the courts assumed responsibility for my +affairs, paid off my creditors, and, as a small compensation for +having robbed me, wiped the slate clean and declared me free of all +claims. And this was twenty-five years ago. My dear boy! Read the +Bankruptcy Act. Ask a lawyer, any lawyer—"</p> +<p>"Let us not speak of lawyers—now," interrupted Queed, +stirring in his chair. "Let their opinion wait as a last +alternative, which, I earnestly hope, need never be used at all. I +am not bringing up this point to you now as a legal question, but +as a moral one."</p> +<p>"Ah! You do not find that the morals provided by the law are +good enough for you, then?"</p> +<p>"If your reading of the law is correct—of which I am not +so certain as you are, I fear—it appears that they are not. +But—"</p> +<p>"It is my misfortune," interrupted the old man, his hand +tightening on the table-edge, "that your sympathies are not with me +in the matter. Mistaken sentiment, youthful Quixotism, lead you to +take an absurdly distorted view of what—"</p> +<p>"No, I'm afraid not. You see, when stripped of all unnecessary +language, the repulsive fact is just this: we are living here on +money that was unlawfully abstracted from the Weyland estate. No +matter what the law may say, we know that this money morally +belongs to its original owners. Now I ask you—"</p> +<p>"Let me put it another way. I can show you exactly where your +misapprehension is—"</p> +<p>Queed stopped him short by a gesture. "My mind is so clear on +this point that discussion only wastes our time."</p> +<p>The young man's burst of exultation was all but stillborn; +already despair plucked chilly at his heart-strings. For the first +time the depth of his feeling broke through into his voice: "Say, +if you like that I am unreasonable, ignorant, unfair. Put it all +down to besotted prejudice.... Can't you restore this money because +I ask it? Won't you do it as a favor to me?"</p> +<p>Surface's face became agitated. "I believe there is nothing else +in the world—that I wouldn't do for you—a thousand +times over—but—"</p> +<p>Then Queed threw the last thing that he had to offer into the +scales, namely himself. He leaned over the table and fixed the old +man with imploring eyes.</p> +<p>"I'd do my best to make it up to you. I'll—I'll live with +you till one or the other of us dies. You'll have somebody to take +care of you when you are old, and there will never be any talk of +the poorhouse between you and me. It can all be arranged quietly +through a lawyer, Professor—and nobody will guess your +secret. You and I will find quiet lodgings somewhere, and live +together—as friends—live cleanly, honorably, +honestly—"</p> +<p>"For God's sake, stop!" said Surface, in a broken-voice. "This +is more than I can bear."</p> +<p>So Queed knew that it was hopeless, and that the old man meant +to cling to his dishonored money, and let his friend go. He sank +back in his chair, sick at heart, and a painful silence fell.</p> +<p>"If I refuse," Surface took up the theme, "it is for your sake +as well as mine. My boy, you don't know what you ask. It is +charity, mere mad charity to people whom I have no love for, +who—"</p> +<p>"Then," said Queed, "two things must happen. First, I must lay +the facts before Miss Weyland."</p> +<p>Surface's manner changed; his eyes became unpleasant.</p> +<p>"You are not serious. You can hardly mean to repeat to anybody +what I have told you in sacred confidence."</p> +<p>Queed smiled sadly. "No, you have not told me anything in +confidence. You have never told me anything until I first found it +out for myself, and then only because denial was useless."</p> +<p>"When I told you my story last June, you assured me—"</p> +<p>"However, you have just admitted that what you told me last June +was not the truth."</p> +<p>Again their eyes clashed, and Surface, whose face was slowly +losing all its color, even the sallowness, found no sign of +yielding in those of the younger man.</p> +<p>Queed resumed: "However, I do not mean that I shall tell her who +you are, unless you yourself compel me to. I shall simply let her +know that you are known to be alive, within reach of the courts, +and in possession of a certain sum of money withheld from the +trustee funds. This will enable her to take the matter up with her +lawyers and, as I believe, bring it before the courts. If her claim +is sustained, she would doubtless give you the opportunity to make +restitution through intermediaries, and thus sensational +disclosures might be avoided. However, I make you no promises about +that."</p> +<p>Surface drew a breath; he permitted his face to show signs of +relief. "Since my argument and knowledge carry so little weight +with you," he said with a fine air of dignity, "I am willing to let +the courts convince you, if you insist. But I do beg—"</p> +<p>Queed cut him short; he felt that he could not bear one of the +old man's grandiloquent speeches now. "There is one other thing +that must be mentioned," he said in a tired voice. "You understand, +of course, that I can live here no longer."</p> +<p>"My God! Don't say that! Aren't you satisfied with what you've +done to me without that!"</p> +<p>"I haven't done anything to you. Whatever has been done, you +have deliberately done to yourself. I have no desire to hurt or +injure you. But—what are you thinking about, to imagine that +I could continue to live here—on this money?"</p> +<p>"You contradict yourself twice in the same breath! You just said +that you would let the courts settle that question—"</p> +<p>"As to the Weyland estate's claim, yes. But I do not let the +courts regulate my own sense of honor."</p> +<p>Surface, elbows on the table, buried his face in his hands. +Queed slowly rose, a heart of lead in his breast. He had failed. He +had offered all that he had, and it had been unhesitatingly kicked +aside. And, unless long litigation was started, and unless it +ultimately succeeded, Henry G. Surface would keep his loot.</p> +<p>He glanced about the pleasant little dining-room, symbol of the +only home he had ever known, where, after all, he had done great +work, and been not unhappy. Personally, he was glad to leave it, +glad to stand out from the shadow of the ruin of Henry G. Surface. +Nevertheless it was a real parting, the end of an epoch in his +life, and there was sadness in that. Sadness, too, he saw, deeper +than his repugnance and anger, in the bowed figure before him, the +lost old man whom he was to leave solitary henceforward. Saddest of +all was the consciousness of his own terrible failure.</p> +<p>He began speaking in a controlled voice.</p> +<p>"This interview is painful to us both. It is useless to prolong +it. I—have much to thank you for—kindness which I do +not forget now and shall not forget. If you ever reconsider your +decision—if you should ever need me for anything—I +shall be within call. And now I must leave you ... sorrier than I +can say that our parting must be like this." He paused: his gaze +rested on the bent head, and he offered, without hope, the final +chance. "Your mind is quite made up? You are sure +that—this—is the way you wish the matter settled?"</p> +<p>Surface took his face from his hands and looked up. His +expression was a complete surprise. It was neither savage nor +anguished, but ingratiating, complacent, full of suppressed +excitement. Into his eyes had sprung an indescribable look of +cunning, the look of a broken-down diplomat about to outwit his +adversary with a last unsuspected card.</p> +<p>"No, no! Of course I'll not let you leave me like this," he +said, with a kind of trembling eagerness, and gave a rather painful +laugh. "You force my hand. I had not meant to tell you my secret so +soon. You can't guess the real reason why I refuse to give my money +to Miss Weyland, even when you ask it, now can you? You can't +guess, now can you?"</p> +<p>"I think I can. You had rather have the money than have me."</p> +<p>"Not a bit of it. Nothing of the kind! Personally I care nothing +for the money. I am keeping it," said the old man, lowering his +voice to a chuckling whisper, "<i>for you!</i>" He leaned over the +table, fixing Queed with a gaze of triumphant cunning. "I'm going +to make you <i>my heir!</i> Leave everything I have in the world +<i>to you!</i>"</p> +<p>A wave of sick disgust swept through the young man, momentarily +engulfing his power of speech. Never had the old man's face looked +so loathsome to him, never the man himself appeared so utterly +detestable.</p> +<p>Surface had risen, whispering and chuckling. "Come up to the +sitting-room, my dear boy. I have some papers up there that may +open your eyes. You need never work—"</p> +<p>"Stop!" said Queed, and the old man stopped in his tracks. +"Can't I make you understand?" he went on, fighting hard for +calmness. "Isn't it clear to you that <i>nothing</i> could induce +me to touch another penny of this money?"</p> +<p>"Ah!" said Surface, in his softest voice. "Ah! And might I +inquire the reason for this heroic self-restraint?"</p> +<p>"You choose your words badly. It is no restraint to honest men +to decline to take other people's money."</p> +<p>"Ah, I see. I see. I see," said Surface, nodding his shining +hairless head up and down.</p> +<p>"Good-by."</p> +<p>"No, no," said the old man, in an odd thick voice. "Not quite +yet, if you please. There is still something that I want to say to +you."</p> +<p>He came slowly around the tiny table, and Queed watched his +coming with bursts of fierce repugnance which set his hard-won +muscles to twitching. An elemental satisfaction there might be in +throwing the old man through the window. Yet, in a truer sense, he +felt that the necessity of manhandling him would be the final touch +in this degrading interview.</p> +<p>"You value your society too high, my dear boy," said Surface +with a face of chalk. "You want too big a price. I must fork over +every penny I have, to a young trollop who happens to have caught +your fancy—"</p> +<p>"Stand away from me!" cried Queed, with a face suddenly whiter +than his own. "You will tempt me to do what I shall be sorry for +afterwards."</p> +<p>But Surface did not budge, and to strike, after all, was hardly +possible; it would be no better than murder. The two men stood, +white face to white face, the two pairs of fearless eyes scarcely a +foot apart. And beyond all the obvious dissimilarity, there +appeared a curious resemblance in the two faces at that moment: in +each the same habit of unfaltering gaze, the same high forehead, +the same clean-cut chin, the same straight, thin-lipped mouth.</p> +<p>"Oh, I see through you clearly enough," said Surface. "You're in +love with her! You think it is a pretty thing to sacrifice me to +her, especially as the sacrifice costs you nothing—"</p> +<p>"Stop! Will you force me in the name of common +decency—"</p> +<p>"But I'll not permit you to do it, do you hear?" continued +Surface, his face ablaze, his lower lip trembling and twitching, as +it does sometimes with the very old. "You need some discipline, my +boy. Need some discipline—and you shall have it. You will +continue to live with me exactly as you have heretofore, only +henceforward I shall direct your movements and endeavor to improve +your manners."</p> +<p>He swayed slightly where he stood, and Queed's tenseness +suddenly relaxed. Pity rose in his heart above furious resentment; +he put out his hand and touched the old man's arm.</p> +<p>"Control yourself," he said in an iron voice. "Come—I will +help you to bed before I go."</p> +<p>Surface shook himself free, and laughed unpleasantly. "Go! +Didn't you hear me tell you that you were not going? Who do you +think I am that you can flout and browbeat and threaten—"</p> +<p>"Come! Let us go up to bed—"</p> +<p>"Who do you think I am!" repeated Surface, bringing his +twitching face nearer, his voice breaking to sudden shrillness. +"Who do you think I am, I say?"</p> +<p>Queed thought the old man had gone off his head, and indeed he +looked it. He began soothingly: "You are—"</p> +<p>"I'm your father! Your <i>father</i>, do you hear!" cried +Surface. "<i>You're my son—Henry G. Surface, Jr.!</i>"</p> +<p>This time, Queed, looking with a wild sudden terror into the +flaming eyes, knew that he heard the truth from Surface at last. +The revelation broke upon him in a stunning flash. He sprang away +from the old man with a movement of loathing unspeakable.</p> +<p>"Father!" he said, in a dull curious whisper. "<i>O God! +Father!</i>"</p> +<p>Surface gazed at him, his upper lip drawn up into his old +purring sneer.</p> +<p>"So that is how you feel about it, my son?" he inquired suavely, +and suddenly crumpled down upon the floor.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The young man shook him by the shoulder, but he did not stir. +Henderson came running at the sound of the fall, and together they +bore the old man, breathing, but inert as the dead, to his room. In +an hour, the doctor had come and gone. In two hours, a trained +nurse was sitting by the bed as though she had been there always. +The doctor called it a "stroke," superinduced by a "shock." He said +that Professor Nicolovius might live for a week, or a year, but was +hardly likely to speak again on this side the dark river that runs +round the world.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Sharlee Weyland reads the Morning Post; of Rev. Mr. Dayne's +Fight at Ephesus and the Telephone Message that never came; of the +Editor's Comment upon the Assistant Editor's Resignation, which +perhaps lacked Clarity; and of how Eight Men elect a Mayor.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Next morning, in the first moment she had, Sharlee Weyland read +the Post's editorial on the reformatory. And as she read she felt +as though the skies had fallen, and the friendly earth suddenly +risen up and smitten her.</p> +<p>It was a rainy morning, the steady downpour of the night before +turned into a fine drizzle; and Sharlee, who nearly always walked, +took the car downtown. She was late this morning; there had been +but flying minutes she could give to breakfast; not a second to +give to anything else; and therefore she took the Post with her to +read on the ride to "the" office. And, seating herself, she turned +immediately to the editorial page, in which the State Department of +Charities felt an especial interest this morning.</p> +<p>Both the name and the position of the editorial were immediately +disappointing to her. It was not in the leading place, and its +caption was simply "As to the Reformatory," which seemed to her too +colorless and weak. Subconsciously, she passed the same judgment +upon the opening sentences of the text, which somehow failed to +ring out that challenge to the obstructionists she had confidently +expected. As she read further, her vague disappointment gave way to +a sudden breathless incredulity; that to a heartsick rigidity of +attention; and when she went back, and began to read the whole +article over, slowly and carefully, from the beginning, her face +was about the color of the pretty white collar she wore. For what +she was looking on at was, so it seemed to her, not simply the +killing of the chief ambition of her two years' work, but the +treacherous murder of it in the house of its friends.</p> +<p>As she reread "As to the Reformatory," she became impressed by +its audacious cleverness. It would have been impossible to manage a +tremendous shift in position with more consummate dexterity. +Indeed, she was almost ready to take the <i>Post's</i> word for it +that no shift at all had been made. From beginning to end the +paper's unshakable loyalty to the reformatory was everywhere +insisted upon; that was the strong keynote; the ruinous +qualifications were slipped in, as it were, reluctantly, hard-wrung +concessions to indisputable and overwhelming evidence. But there +they were, scarcely noticeable to the casual reader, perhaps, but +to passionate partisans sticking up like palm-trees on a plain. In +a backhanded, sinuous but unmistakable way, the <i>Post</i> was +telling the legislature that it had better postpone the reformatory +for another two years. It was difficult to say just what phrase or +phrases finally pushed the odious idea out into the light; but +Sharlee lingered longest on a passage which, after referring to the +"list of inescapable expenditures published elsewhere," said:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Immediacy, of course, was never the great question; but it was a +question; and the <i>Post</i> has therefore watched with keen +regret the rolling up of absolutely unavoidable expenses to the +point where the spending of another dollar for any cause, however +meritorious in itself, must be regarded as of dubious wisdom.</p> +</div> +<p>That sentence was enough. It would be as good as a volume to the +powerful opposition in the House, hardly repressed heretofore by +the <i>Post's</i> thunders. The reformatory, which they had labored +for so long, was dead.</p> +<p>The thought was bitter to the young assistant secretary. But +from the first, her mind had jumped beyond it, to fasten on another +and, to her, far worse one, a burning personal question by the side +of which the loss of the reformatory seemed for the moment an +unimportant detail.</p> +<p><i>Which of the two men had done it?</i></p> +<p>Rev. Mr. Dayne was sitting bowed over his desk, his strong head +clamped in his hands, the morning Post crumpled on the floor beside +him. He did not look up when his assistant entered the office; his +response to her "Good-morning" was of the briefest. Sharlee +understood. It was only the corporeal husk of her friend that was +seated at the desk. All the rest of him was down at Ephesus +fighting with the beasts, and grimly resolved to give no sign from +the arena till he had set his foot upon their necks for the glory +of God and the honor of his cloth.</p> +<p>Sharlee herself did not feel conversational. In silence she took +off her things, and, going over to her own desk, began opening the +mail. In an hour, maybe more, maybe less, the Secretary stood at +her side, his kind face calm as ever.</p> +<p>"Well," he said quietly, "how do you explain it?"</p> +<p>Sharlee's eyes offered him bay-leaves for his victory.</p> +<p>"There is a suggestion about it," said she, still rather white, +"of thirty pieces of silver."</p> +<p>"Oh! We can hardly say that. Let us give him the benefit of the +doubt, as long as there can be any doubt. Let us view it for the +present as a death-bed repentance."</p> +<p>Him? Which did he mean?</p> +<p>"No," said Sharlee, "it is not possible to view it that way. The +<i>Post</i> has been as familiar with the arguments all along, from +beginning to end, as you or I. It could not be honestly converted +any more than you could. This," said she, struggling to speak +calmly, "is treachery."</p> +<p>"Appearances, I am sorry to say, are much that way. +Still—I think we should not condemn the paper unheard."</p> +<p>"Then why not have the hearing at once? An explanation +is—"</p> +<p>"I shall seek none," interrupted Mr. Dayne, quietly. "The +<i>Post</i> must volunteer it, if it has any to offer. Of course," +he went on, "we know nothing of the history of that editorial now. +Of one thing, however, I feel absolutely certain; that is, that it +was published without the knowledge of Mr. West. Developments may +follow.... As for instance a shake-up in the staff."</p> +<p>That settled it. This good man whom she admired so much had not +entertained a doubt that the editorial was from the brain and pen +of Mr. Queed.</p> +<p>She said painfully: "As to the effect upon the—the +reformatory—"</p> +<p>"It is killed," said Mr. Dayne, and went away to his desk.</p> +<p>Sharlee turned in her desk-chair and looked out of the +rain-blurred windows.</p> +<p>Through and beyond the trees of the park, over ridges of roofs +and away to the west and north, she saw the weatherbeaten +<i>Post</i> building, its distant gray tower cutting mistily out of +the dreary sky. From where she sat she could just pick out, as she +had so often noticed before, the tops of the fifth-floor row of +windows, the windows from which the <i>Post's</i> editorial +department looked out upon a world with which it could not keep +faith. Behind one of those windows at this moment, in all +likelihood, sat the false friend who had cut down the reformatory +from behind.</p> +<p>Which was it? Oh, was not Mr. Dayne right, as he always was? +Where was there any room for doubt?</p> +<p>Long before Sharlee knew Charles Gardiner West personally, when +she was a little girl and he just out of college, she had known him +by report as a young man of fine ideals, exalted character, the +very pattern of stainless honor. Her later intimate knowledge of +him, she told herself, had fully borne out the common reputation. +Wherever she had touched him, she had found him generous and sound +and sweet. That he was capable of what seemed to her the baldest +and basest treachery was simply unthinkable. And what reason was +there ever to drag his name into her thought of the affair at all? +Was it not Mr. Queed who had written all the reformatory articles +since Colonel Cowles's death—Mr. Queed who had promised only +twenty-four hours ago to do his utmost for the cause at the +critical moment to-day?</p> +<p>And yet ... and yet ... her mind clung desperately to the +thought that possibly the assistant editor had not done this thing, +after all. The memory of his visit to her, less than a week ago, +was very vivid in her mind. What sort of world was it that a man +with a face of such shining honesty could stoop to such shabby +dishonesty?—that a man who had looked at her as he had looked +at her that night, could turn again and strike her such a blow? +That Queed should have done this seemed as inconceivable as that +West should have done it. There was the wild hundredth chance that +neither had done it, that the article had been written by somebody +else and published by mistake.</p> +<p>But the hope hardly fluttered its wings before her reason struck +it dead. No, there was no way out there. The fact was too plain +that one of her two good friends, under what pressure she could not +guess, had consented to commit dishonor and, by the same stroke, to +wound her so deeply. For no honest explanation was possible; there +was no argument in the case to-day that was not equally potent a +month ago. It was all a story of cajolery or intimidation from the +formidable opposition, and of mean yielding in the places of +responsibility. And—yes—She felt it as bad for one of +her two friends to be so stained as another. It had come to that. +At last she must admit that they stood upon level ground in her +imagination, the nameless little Doctor of two years back side by +side with the beau ideal of all her girlhood. One's honor was as +dear to her as another's; one's friendship as sweet; and now one of +them was her friend no more.</p> +<p>And it was not West whom she must cast out. There was no peg +anywhere to hang even the smallest suspicion of him upon. She +scourged her mind for seeking one. It was Queed who, at the pinch, +had broken down and betrayed them with a kiss: Queed, of the +obscure parentage, dubious inheritance, and omitted upbringing; +Queed, whom she had first stood upon his feet and started forward +in a world of men, had helped and counseled and guided, had +admitted to her acquaintance, her friendship—for this.</p> +<p>But because Sharlee had known Queed well as a man who loved +truth, because the very thing that she had seen and most admired in +him from the beginning was an unflinching honesty of intellect and +character, because of the remembrance of his face as she had last +seen it: a tiny corner of her mind, in defiance of all reason, +revolted against this condemnation and refused to shut tight +against him. All morning she sat at her work, torn by anxiety, +hoping every moment that her telephone might ring with some +unthought-of explanation, which would leave her with nothing worse +upon her mind than the dead reformatory. But though the telephone +rang often, it was never for this.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Sitting in a corner of the House gallery, about noon, Mr. Dayne +saw the reformatory bill, which he himself had written, called up +out of order and snowed under. The only speech was made by the +Solon who had the bill called up, a familiar organization +wheelhorse, named Meachy T. Bangor, who quoted with unconcealed +triumph from the morning's <i>Post</i>, wholly ignoring all the +careful safeguards and tearing out of the context only such +portions as suited his humor and his need. Mr. Bangor pointed out +that, inasmuch as the "acknowledged organ" of the State Department +of Charities now at length "confessed" that the reformatory had +better wait two years, there were no longer two sides to the +question. Many of the gentleman's hearers appeared to agree with +him. They rose and fell upon the bill, and massacred it by a vote +of 54 to 32.</p> +<p>From "Sis" Hopkins, legislative reporter of the <i>Post</i>, the +news went skipping over the telephone wire to the editorial rooms, +where the assistant editor, who received it, remarked that he was +sorry to hear it. That done, the assistant hung up the receiver, +and resumed work upon an article entitled "A Constitution for +Turkey?" He had hardly added a sentence to this composition before +West came in and, with a cheery word of greeting, passed into his +own office.</p> +<p>The assistant editor went on with his writing. He looked worn +this morning, Henry Surface's son, and not without reason. Half the +night he had shared the nurse's vigil at the bedside of Surface, +who lay in unbroken stupor. Half the night he had maintained an +individual vigil in his own room, lying flat on his back and +staring wide-eyed into the darkness. And on the heels of the day, +there had come new trouble for him, real trouble, though in the +general cataclysm its full bearings and farther reaches did not at +once come home to him. Running professionally through the +<i>Post</i> at breakfast-time, his eye, like Miss Weyland's, had +been suddenly riveted by that paper's remarks upon the +reformatory.... What was the meaning of the staggering performance +he had no idea, and need not inquire. Its immediate effect upon his +own career was at least too plain for argument. His editorship and +his reformatory had gone down together.</p> +<p>Yet he was in no hurry now about following West into his +sanctum. Of all things Queed, as people called him, despised +heroics and abhorred a "scene." Nothing could be gained by a +quarrel now; very earnestly he desired the interview to be as +matter-of-fact as possible. In half an hour, when he had come to a +convenient stopping-place, he opened the door and stood +uncomfortably before the young man he had so long admired.</p> +<p>West, sitting behind his long table, skimming busily through the +paper with blue pencil and scissors, looked up with his agreeable +smile.</p> +<p>"Well! What do you see that looks likely for—What's the +matter? Are you sick to-day?"</p> +<p>"No, I am quite well, thank you. I find very little in the news, +though. You notice that a digest of the railroad bill is given +out?"</p> +<p>"Yes. You don't look a bit well, old fellow. You must take a +holiday after the legislature goes. Yes, I'm going to take the hide +off that bill. Or better yet—you. Don't you feel like +shooting off some big guns at it?"</p> +<p>"Certainly, if you want me to. There is the farmers' convention, +too. And by the way, I'd like to leave as soon as you can fill my +place."</p> +<p>West dropped scissors, pencil, and paper and stared at him with +dismayed amazement. "<i>Leave!</i> Why, you are never thinking of +<i>leaving</i> me!"</p> +<p>"Yes. I'd—like to leave. I thought I ought to tell you +this morning, so that you can at once make your plans as to my +successor."</p> +<p>"But my dear fellow! I can't let you <i>leave me!</i> You've no +idea how I value your assistance, how I've come to lean and depend +upon you at every point. I never dreamed you were thinking of this. +What's the matter? What have you got on your mind?"</p> +<p>"I think," said Queed, unhappily, "that I should be better +satisfied off the paper than on it."</p> +<p>"Why, confound you—it's the money!" said West, with a +sudden relieved laugh. "Why didn't you tell me, old fellow? You're +worth five times what they're paying you—five times as much +as I am for that matter—and I can make the directors see it. +Trust me to make them raise you to my salary at the next +meeting."</p> +<p>"Thank you—but no, my salary is quite satisfactory."</p> +<p>West frowned off into space, looking utterly bewildered. "Of +course," he said in a troubled voice, "you have a perfect right to +resign without saying a word. I haven't the smallest right to press +you for an explanation against your will. But—good Lord! Here +we've worked together side by side, day after day, for nearly a +year, pretty good friends, as I thought, and—well, it hurts a +little to have you put on your hat and walk out without a word. I +wish you would tell me what's wrong. There's nothing I wouldn't do, +if I could, to fix it and keep you."</p> +<p>The eyes of the two men met across the table, and it was Queed's +that faltered and fell.</p> +<p>"Well," he said, obviously embarrassed, "I find that I am out of +sympathy with the policy of the paper."</p> +<p>"Oh-h-ho!" said West, slowly and dubiously. "Do you mean my +article on the reformatory?"</p> +<p>"Yes—I do."</p> +<p>"Why, my dear fellow!"</p> +<p>West paused, his handsome eyes clouded, considering how best he +might put the matter to overcome most surely the singular scruples +of his assistant.</p> +<p>"Let's take it this way, old fellow. Suppose that my standpoint +in that article was diametrically wrong. I am sure I could convince +you that it was not, but admit, for argument's sake, that it was. +Do you feel that the appearance in the paper of an article with +which you don't agree makes it necessary for you, in honor, to +resign?"</p> +<p>"No, certainly not—"</p> +<p>"Is it that you don't like my turning down one of your articles +and printing one of my own instead? I didn't know you objected to +that, old fellow. You see—while your judgment is probably a +hanged sight better than mine, after all I am the man who is held +responsible, and I am paid a salary to see that my opinions become +the opinions of the <i>Post</i>."</p> +<p>"It is entirely right that your opinions—"</p> +<p>"Then wherein have I offended? Be frank with me, like a good +fellow, I beg you!"</p> +<p>Queed eyed him strangely. Was the editor's inner vision really +so curiously astigmatic?</p> +<p>"I look at it this way," he said, in a slow, controlled voice. +"The <i>Post</i> has said again and again that <i>this</i> +legislature must establish a reformatory. That was the burden of a +long series of editorials, running back over a year, which, as I +thought, had your entire approval. Now, at the critical moment, +when it was only necessary to say once more what had been said a +hundred times before, the <i>Post</i> suddenly turns about and, in +effect, authorizes this legislature not to establish the +reformatory. The House killed the bill just now. Bangor quoted from +the <i>Post</i> editorial. There can be no doubt, of course, that +it turned a number of votes—enough to have safely carried the +bill."</p> +<p>West looked disturbed and unhappy.</p> +<p>"But if we find out that this legislature is so drained by +inescapable expenses that it simply cannot provide the money? +Suppose the State had been swept by a plague? Suppose there was a +war and a million of unexpected expenses had suddenly dropped on us +from the clouds? Wouldn't you agree that circumstances altered +cases, and that, under such circumstances, everything that was not +indispensable to the State's existence would have to go over?"</p> +<p>Queed felt like answering West's pepper-fire of casuistry by +throwing Eva Bernheimer at his head. Despite his determination to +avoid a "scene," he felt his bottled-up indignation rising. A light +showed in his stone-gray eyes.</p> +<p>"Can't you really see that these circumstances are not in the +least like those? Did you do me the courtesy to read what I wrote +about this so-called 'economy argument' last night?"</p> +<p>"Certainly," said West, surprised by the other's tone. "But +clever as it was, it was not based, in my opinion, on a clear +understanding of the facts as they actually exist. You and I stay +so close inside of four walls here that we are apt to get out of +touch with practical conditions. Yesterday, I was fortunate enough +to get new facts, from a confidential and highly authoritative +source. In the light of these—I wish I could explain them +more fully to you, but I was pledged to secrecy—I am obliged +to tell you that what you had written seemed to me altogether out +of focus, unfair, and extreme."</p> +<p>"Did you get these facts, as you call them, from Plonny +Neal?"</p> +<p>"As to that, I am at liberty to say nothing."</p> +<p>Queed, looking at him, saw that he had. He began to feel sorry +for West.</p> +<p>"I would give four hundred and fifty dollars," he said +slowly—"all the money that I happen to have—if you had +told me last night that you meant to do this."</p> +<p>"I am awfully sorry," said West, with a touch of dignity, "that +you take it so hard. But I assure you—"</p> +<p>"I know Plonny Neal even better than you do," continued Queed, +"for I have known him as his social equal. He is laughing at you +to-day."</p> +<p>West, of course, knew better than that. The remark confirmed his +belief that Queed had brooded over the reformatory till he saw +everything about it distorted and magnified.</p> +<p>"Well, old fellow," he said, without a trace of ill-humor in his +voice or his manner, "then it is I he is laughing at—not you. +That brings us right back to my point. If you feel, as I understand +it, that the <i>Post</i> is in the position of having deserted its +own cause, I alone am the deserter. Don't you see that? Not only am +I the editor of the paper, and so responsible for all that it says; +but I wrote the article, on my own best information and judgment. +Whatever consequences there are," said West, his thoughts on the +consequences most likely to accrue to the saviour of the party, "I +assume them all."</p> +<p>"A few people," said Queed, slowly, "know that I have been +conducting this fight for the <i>Post</i>. They may not understand +that I was suddenly superseded this morning. But of course it isn't +that. It is simply a matter—"</p> +<p>"Believe me, it can all be made right. I shall take the greatest +pleasure in explaining to your friends that I alone am responsible. +I shall call to-day—right now—at—"</p> +<p>"I'm sorry," said Queed, abruptly, "but it is entirely +impossible for me to remain."</p> +<p>West looked, and felt, genuinely distressed. "I wish," he said, +"the old reformatory had never been born"; and he went on in a +resigned voice: "Of course I can't keep you with a padlock and +chain, but—for the life of me, I can't catch your point of +view. To my mind it appears the honorable and courageous thing to +correct a mistake, even at the last moment, rather than stand by it +for appearance's sake."</p> +<p>"You see I don't regard our principles as a mistake."</p> +<p>But he went back to his office marveling at himself for the ease +with which West had put him in the wrong.</p> +<p>For friendship's sake, West had meant to call at the Charities +Department that day, and explain to his two friends there how his +sense of responsibility to the larger good had made it necessary +for him to inflict a momentary disappointment upon them. But this +disturbing interview with his assistant left him not so sure that +an immediate call would be desirable, after all. At the moment, +both Dayne and the dearest girl in the world would naturally be +feeling vexed over the failure of their plan; wouldn't it be the +sensible and considerate thing to give them a little time to +conquer their pique and compose themselves to see facts as they +were?</p> +<p>The <i>Chronicle</i> that afternoon finally convinced him that +this would be the considerate thing. That offensive little +busybody, which pretended to have been a champion of "this people's +institution" came out with a nasty editorial, entitled "The +<i>Post's</i> Latest Flop." "Flop" appeared to be an intensely +popular word in the <i>Chronicle</i> office. The article boldly +taxed "our more or less esteemed contemporary" with the murder of +the reformatory, and showed unpleasant freedom in employing such +phrases as "instantaneous conversion," "treacherous friendship," +"disgusting somersaulting," and the like. Next day, grown still +more audacious, it had the hardihood to refer to the <i>Post</i> as +"The Plonny Neal organ."</p> +<p>Now, of course, the reformatory had not been in any sense a +burning public "issue." Measures like this, being solid and really +important, seldom interest the people. There was not the smallest +popular excitement over the legislature's conduct, or the +<i>Post's</i>. The <i>Chronicle's</i> venomous remarks were +dismissed as the usual "newspaper scrap." All this West understood +perfectly. Still, it was plain that a few enthusiasts, reformatory +fanatics, were taking the first flush of disappointment rather +hard. For himself, West reflected, he cared nothing about their +clamor. Conscious of having performed an unparalleled service to +his party, and thus to his State, he was willing to stand for a +time the indignation of the ignorant, the obloquy of the malicious, +even revolt and disloyalty among his own lieutenants. One day the +truth about his disinterested patriotism would become known. For +the present he would sit silent, calmly waiting at least until +unjust resentment subsided and reason reasserted her sway.</p> +<p>Many days passed, as it happened, before West and the Secretary +of Charities met; six days before West and the Assistant Secretary +met. On the sixth night, about half-past seven in the evening, he +came unexpectedly face to face with Sharlee Weyland in the +vestibule of Mrs. Byrd, Senior's, handsome house. In the days +intervening, Sharlee's state of mind had remained very much where +it was on the first morning: only now the tiny open corner of her +mind had shrunk to imperceptible dimensions. Of West she +entertained not the smallest doubt; and she greeted him like the +excellent friend she knew him to be.</p> +<p>There was a little dinner-dance at Mrs. Byrd's, for the season's +<i>débutantes</i>. It became remembered as one of the most +charming of all her charming parties. To the buds were added a +sprinkling of older girls who had survived as the fittest, while +among the swains a splendid catholicity as to age prevailed. A +retinue of imported men, Caucasian at that, served dinner at six +small tables, six at a table; the viands were fashioned to tickle +tired epicures; there was vintage champagne such as kings quaff to +pledge the comity of nations; Wissner's little band of artists, +known to command its own price, divinely mingled melody with the +rose-sweetness of the air. West, having dined beautifully, and +lingered over coffee in the smoking-room among the last, emerged to +find the polished floors crowded with an influx of new guests, come +to enliven the dance. His was, as ever, a Roman progress; he +stopped and was stopped everywhere; like a happy opportunist, he +plucked the flowers as they came under his hand, and gayly whirled +from one measure to another. So the glorious evening was half spent +before, in an intermission, he found himself facing Sharlee +Weyland, who was uncommonly well attended, imploring her hand for +the approaching waltz.</p> +<p>Without the smallest hesitation, Sharlee drew her ornamental +pencil through the next name on her list, and ordered her flowers +and fan transferred from the hands of Mr. Beverley Byrd to those of +Mr. Charles Gardiner West.</p> +<p>"Only," said she, thinking of her partners, "you'll have to hide +me somewhere."</p> +<p>With a masterful grace which others imitated, indeed, but could +not copy, West extricated his lady from her gallants, and led her +away to a pretty haven; not indeed, to a conservatory, since there +was none, but to a bewitching nook under the wide stairway, all +banked about with palm and fern and pretty flowering shrub. There +they sat them down, unseeing and unseen, near yet utterly remote, +while in the blood of West beat the intoxicating strains of Straus, +not to mention the vintage champagne, to which he had taken a very +particular fancy.</p> +<p>All night, while the roses heard the flute, violin, bassoon, +none in all the gay company had been gayer than Sharlee. Past many +heads in the dining-room, West had watched her, laughing, radiant, +sparkling as the wine itself, a pretty little lady of a joyous +sweetness that never knew a care. In the dance, for he had watched +her there, too, wondering, as she circled laughing by, whether she +felt any lingering traces of pique with him, she had been the same: +no girl ever wore a merrier heart. But a sudden change came now. In +the friendly freedom of the green-banked alcove, Sharlee's gayety +dropped from her like a painted mask, which, having amused the +children, has done its full part. Against the back of the cushioned +settle where they sat she leaned a weary head, and frankly let her +fringed lids droop.</p> +<p>At another time West might have been pleased by such candid +evidences of confidence and intimacy, but not to-night. He felt +that Sharlee, having advertised a delightful gayety by her manner, +should now proceed to deliver it: it certainly was not for tired +sweetness and disconcerting silences that he had sought this +<i>tête-à-tête</i>. But at last his failure to +arouse her on indifferent topics became too marked to be passed +over; and then he said in a gentle voice:—</p> +<p>"Confess, Miss Weyland. You're as tired as you can be."</p> +<p>She turned her head, and smiled a little into his eyes. +"Yes—you don't mind, do you?"</p> +<p>"Indeed I do, though! You're going altogether too +hard—working like a Trojan all day and dancing like a dryad +all night. You'll break yourself down—indeed you will!"</p> +<p>Hardly conscious of it herself, Sharlee had been waiting with a +tense anxiety of which her face began to give signs, for him to +speak. And now she understood that he would not speak; and she knew +why.... How her heart warmed to him for his honorable silence in +defense of his unworthy friend.</p> +<p>But she herself was under no such restraint. "It isn't that," +she said quickly. "It's the reformatory—I've worried myself +sick over it."</p> +<p>West averted his gaze; he saw that it had come, and in a +peculiarly aggravated form. He recognized at once how impossible it +would be to talk the matter over, in a calm and rational way, under +such conditions as these. This little girl had brooded over it till +the incident had assumed grotesque and fantastic proportions in her +mind. She was seeing visions, having nightmares. In a soothing, +sympathetic voice, he began consoling her with the thought that a +postponement for two brief years was really not so serious, and +that—</p> +<p>"It isn't that!" she corrected him again, in the same voice. +"That was pretty bad, but—what I have minded so much was +M—— was the <i>Post's</i> desertion."</p> +<p>West's troubled eyes fell. But some hovering imp of darkness +instantly popped it into his head to ask: "Have you seen +Queed?"</p> +<p>"No," said Sharlee, colorlessly. "Not since—"</p> +<p>"You—didn't know, then, that he has left the +<i>Post?</i>"</p> +<p>"Left the <i>Post!</i>" she echoed, with a face suddenly rigid. +"No! Did he? Won't you tell me—?"</p> +<p>West looked unhappily at the floor. "Well—I'd much rather +not go into this now. But the fact is that he left because ... +well, we had a difference of opinion as to that reformatory +article."</p> +<p>Sharlee turned hastily away, pretending to look for her fan. The +sudden shutting of that tiny door had shot her through with +unexpected pain. The last doubt fell now; all was plain. Mr. Queed +had been discharged for writing an article which outraged his +chief's sense of honor, that knightly young chief who still would +not betray him by a word. The little door clicked; Sharlee turned +the key upon it and threw away the key. And then she turned upon +West a face so luminous with pure trust that it all but unsteadied +him.</p> +<p>To do West justice, it was not until his words had started +caroming down the eternal halls of time, that their possible +implication dawned upon him. His vague idea had been merely to give +a non-committal summary of the situation to ease the present +moment; this to be followed, at a more suitable time, by the calm +and rational explanation he had always intended. But the magical +effect of his chance words, entirely unexpected by him, was quite +too delightful to be wiped out. To erase that look from the tired +little lady's face by labored exposition and tedious statistic +would be the height of clumsy unkindness. She had been unhappy; he +had made her happy; that was all that was vital just now. At a +later time, when she had stopped brooding over the thing and could +see and discuss it intelligently, he would take her quietly and +straighten the whole matter out for her.</p> +<p>For this present, there was a look in her eyes which made a +trip-hammer of his heart. Never had her face—less of the mere +pretty young girl's than he had ever seen it, somewhat worn beneath +its color, a little wistful under her smile—seemed to him so +immeasurably sweet. In his blood Straus and the famous Verzenay +plied their dizzying vocations. Suddenly he leaned forward, seeing +nothing but two wonderful blue eyes, and his hand fell upon hers, +with a grip which claimed her out of all the world.</p> +<p>"Sharlee" he said hoarsely. "Don't you know that—"</p> +<p>But he was, alas, summarily checked. At just that minute, +outraged partners of Miss Weyland's espied and descended upon them +with loud reproachful cries, and Charles Gardiner West's moment of +superb impetuosity had flowered in nothing.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At a little earlier hour on the same evening, in a dining-room a +mile away, eight men met "without political significance" to elect +a new set of officers for the city. A bit of red-tape legislation +permitted the people to ratify the choices at a "primary," to be +held some months later; but the election came now. Unanimously, and +with little or no discussion, the eight men elected one of their +own number, Mr. Meachy T. Bangor by name, to the office of Mayor of +the City.</p> +<p>One of them then referred humorously to Mr. Bangor as just the +sort of progressive young reformer that suited <i>him</i>. Another +suggested, more seriously, that they might have to allow for the +genuine article some day. Plonny Neal, who sat at the head of the +table, as being the wisest of them, said that the organization +certainly must expect to knuckle to reform some day; perhaps in +eight years, perhaps in twelve years, perhaps in sixteen.</p> +<p>"Got your young feller all picked out, Plonny?" queried the +Mayor elect, Mr. Bangor, with a wink around the room.</p> +<p>Plonny denied that he had any candidate. Under pressure, +however, he admitted having his eye on a certain youth, a "dark +horse" who was little known at present, but who, in his humble +judgment, was a coming man. Plonny said that this man was very +young just now, but would be plenty old enough before they would +have need of him.</p> +<p>Mr. Bangor once more winked at the six. "Why, Plonny, I thought +you were rooting for Charles Gardenia West."</p> +<p>"Then there's two of ye," said Plonny, dryly, "he being the +other one."</p> +<p>He removed his unlighted cigar, and spat loudly into a tall +brass cuspidor, which he had taken the precaution to place for just +such emergencies.</p> +<p>"Meachy," said Plonny, slowly, "I wouldn't give the job of +dog-catcher to a man you couldn't trust to stand by his +friends."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>How Words can be like Blows, and Blue Eyes stab deep; how +Queed sits by a Bedside and reviews his Life; and how a Thought +leaps at him and will not down.</i></p> +</div> +<p>In the first crushing burst of revelation, Queed had had a wild +impulse to wash his hands of everything, and fly. He would pack +Surface off to a hospital; dispose of the house; escape back to +Mrs. Paynter's; forget his terrible knowledge, and finally bury it +with Surface. His reason fortified the impulse at every point. He +owed less than nothing to his father; he had not the slightest +responsibility either toward him or for him; to acknowledge the +relation between them would do no conceivable good to anybody. He +would go back to the Scriptorium, and all would be as it had been +before.</p> +<p>But when the moment came either to go or to stay, another and +deeper impulse rose against this one, and beat it down. Within him +a voice whispered that though he might go back to the Scriptorium, +he would never be as he had been before. Whether he acknowledged +the relation or not, it was still there. And, in time, his reason +brought forth material to fortify this impulse, too: it came out in +brief, grim sentences which burned themselves into his mind. +Surface was his father. To deny the primal blood-tie was not +honorable. The sins of the fathers descended to the children. To +suppress Truth was the crowning blasphemy.</p> +<p>Queed did not go. He stayed, resolved, after a violent +struggle—it was all over in the first hour of his +discovery—to bear his burden, shouldering everything that his +sonship involved.</p> +<p>By day and by night the little house stood very quiet. Its +secret remained inviolate; the young man was still Mr. Queed, the +old one still Professor Nicolovius, who had suffered the last of +his troublesome "strokes." Inside the darkened windows, life moved +on silent heels. The doctor came, did nothing, and went. The nurse +did nothing but stayed. Queed would have dismissed her at once, +except that that would have been bad economy; he must keep his own +more valuable time free for the earning of every possible penny. To +run the house, he had, for the present, his four hundred and fifty +dollars in bank, saved out of his salary. This, he figured, would +last nine weeks. Possibly Surface would last longer than that: that +remained to be seen.</p> +<p>Late on a March afternoon, Queed finished a review +article—his second since he had left the newspaper, four days +before—and took it himself to the post-office. He wanted to +catch the night mail for the North; and besides his body, jaded by +two days' confinement, cried aloud for a little exercise. His +fervent desire was to rush out all the articles that were in him, +and get money for them back with all possible speed. But he knew +that the market for this work was limited. He must find other work +immediately; he did not care greatly what kind it was, provided +only that it was profitable. Thoughts of ways and means, mostly +hard thoughts, occupied his mind all the way downtown. And always +it grew plainer to him how much he was going to miss, now of all +times, his eighteen hundred a year from the <i>Post</i>.</p> +<p>In the narrowest corridor of the post-office—like West in +the Byrds' vestibule—he came suddenly face to face with +Sharlee Weyland.</p> +<p>The meeting was unwelcome to them both, and both their faces +showed it. Sharlee had told herself, a thousand times in a week, +that she never wanted to see Mr. Queed again. Queed had known, +without telling himself at all, that he did not want to see Miss +Weyland, not, at least, till he had more time to think. But Queed's +dread of seeing the girl had nothing to do with what was uppermost +in her mind—the <i>Post's</i> treacherous editorial. Of +course, West had long since made that right as he had promised, as +he would have done with no promising. But—ought he to tell +her now, or to wait?... And what would she say when she knew the +whole shameful truth about him—knew that for nearly a year +Surface Senior and Surface Junior, shifty father and hoodwinked +son, had been living fatly on the salvage of her own plundered +fortune?</p> +<p>She would have passed him with a bow, but Queed, more awkward +than she, involuntarily halted. The dingy gas-light, which happened +to be behind him, fell full upon her face, and he said at +once:—</p> +<p>"How do you do?—not very well, I fear. You look quite used +up—not well at all."</p> +<p>Pride raised a red flag in her cheek. She lifted a great muff to +her lips, and gave a little laugh.</p> +<p>"Thank you. I am quite well."</p> +<p>Continuing to gaze at her, he went ahead with customary +directness: "Then I am afraid you have been taking—the +reformatory too hard."</p> +<p>"No, not the reformatory. It is something worse than that. I had +a friend once," said Sharlee, muff to her lips, and her level eyes, +upon him, "and he was not worthy."</p> +<p>To follow out that thought was impossible, but Queed felt very +sorry for West when he saw how she said it.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry that you should have had this—to distress you. +However—"</p> +<p>"Isn't it rather late to think of that now? As to saying +it—I should have thought that you would tell me of your +sorrow immediately—or not at all."</p> +<p>A long look passed between them. Down the corridor, on both +sides of them, flowed a stream of people bent upon mails; but these +two were alone in the world.</p> +<p>"Have you seen West?" asked Queed, in a voice unlike his +own.</p> +<p>She made a little movement of irrepressible distaste.</p> +<p>"Yes.... But you must not think that he told me. He is too kind, +too honorable to betray his friend."</p> +<p>He stared at her, reft of the power of speech.</p> +<p>From under the wide hat, the blue eyes seemed to leap out and +stab him; they lingered, turning the knife, while their owner +appeared to be waiting for him to speak; and then with a final +twist, they were pulled away, and Queed found himself alone in the +corridor.</p> +<p>He dropped his long envelope in the slot labeled <i>North</i>, +and turned his footsteps toward Duke of Gloucester Street +again.</p> +<p>Within him understanding had broken painfully into flame. Miss +Weyland believed that he was the author of the unforgivable +editorial—<i>he</i>, who had so gladly given, first the best +abilities he had, and then his position itself, to the cause of Eva +Bernheimer. West had seen her, and either through deliberate +falseness or his characteristic fondness for shying off from +disagreeable subjects—Queed felt pretty sure it was the +latter—had failed to reveal the truth. West's motives did not +matter in the least. The terrible situation in which he himself had +been placed was all that mattered, and that he must straighten out +at once. What dumbness had seized his tongue just now he could not +imagine. But it was plain that, however much he would have +preferred not to see the girl at all, this meeting had made another +one immediately necessary: he must see her at once, to-night, and +clear himself wholly of this cruel suspicion. And yet ... he could +never clear himself of her <i>having</i> suspected him; he +understood that, and it seemed to him a terrible thing. No matter +how humble her contrition, how abject her apologies, nothing could +ever get back of what was written, or change the fact that she had +believed him capable of that.</p> +<p>The young man pursued his thoughts over three miles of city +streets, and returned to the house of Surface.</p> +<p>The hour was 6.30. He took the nurse's seat by the bedside of +his father and sent her away to her dinner.</p> +<p>There was a single gas-light in the sick-room, turned just high +enough for the nurse to read her novels. The old man lay like a +log, though breathing heavily; under the flickering light, his face +looked ghastly. It had gone all to pieces; advanced old age had +taken possession of it in a night. Moreover the truth about the +auburn mustaches and goatee was coming out in snowy splotches; the +fading dye showed a mottle of red and white not agreeable to the +eye. Here was not merely senility, but ignoble and repulsive +senility.</p> +<p>His father!... his <i>father!</i> O God! How much better to have +sprung, as he once believed, from the honest loins of Tim +Queed!</p> +<p>The young man averted his eyes from the detestable face of his +father, and let his thoughts turn inward upon himself. For the +first time in all his years, he found himself able to trace his own +life back to its source, as other men do. A flying trip to New +York, and two hours with Tim Queed, had answered all questions, +cleared up all doubts. First of all, it had satisfied him that +there was no stain upon his birth. Surface's second marriage had +been clandestine, but it was genuine; in Newark the young man found +the old clergyman who had officiated at the ceremony. His mother, +it seemed, had been Miss Floretta May Earle, a "handsome young +opery singer," of a group, so Tim said, to which the gentleman, his +father, had been very fond of giving his "riskay little bacheldore +parties."</p> +<p>Tim's story, in fact, was comprehensive at all points. He had +been Mr. Surface's coachman and favorite servant in the heyday of +the Southern apostate's metropolitan glories. About a year before +the final catastrophe, Surface's affairs being then in a shaky +condition, the servants had been dismissed, the handsome house +sold, and the financier, in a desperate effort to save himself, had +moved off somewhere to modest quarters in a side street. That was +the last Tim heard of his old patron, till the papers printed the +staggering news of his arrest. A few weeks later, Tim one day +received a message bidding him come to see his former master in the +Tombs.</p> +<p>The disgraced capitalist's trial was then in its early stages, +but he entertained not the smallest hope of acquittal. Broken and +embittered, he confided to his faithful servant that, soon after +the break-up of his establishment, he had quietly married a wife; +that some weeks earlier she had presented him with a son; and that +she now lay at the point of death with but remote chances of +recovery. To supply her with money was impossible, for his +creditors, he said, had not only swooped down like buzzards upon +the remnant of his fortune, but were now watching his every move +under the suspicion that he had managed to keep something back. All +his friends had deserted him as though he were a leper, for his had +been the unpardonable sin of being found out. In all the world +there was no equal of whom he was not too proud to ask a favor.</p> +<p>In short, he was about to depart for a long sojourn in prison, +leaving behind a motherless, friendless, and penniless infant son. +Would Tim take him and raise him as his own?</p> +<p>While Tim hesitated over this amazing request, Surface leaned +forward and whispered a few words in his ear. He <i>had</i> +contrived to secrete a little sum of money, a very small sum, but +one which, well invested as it was, would provide just enough for +the boy's keep. Tim was to receive twenty-five dollars monthly for +his trouble and expense; Surface pledged his honor as a gentleman +that he would find a way to smuggle this sum to him on the first of +every month. Tim, being in straits at the time, accepted with +alacrity. No, he could not say that Mr. Surface had exhibited any +sorrow over the impending decease of his wife, or any affectionate +interest in his son. In fact the ruined man seemed to regard the +arrival of the little stranger—"the brat," as he called +him—with peculiar exasperation. Tim gathered that he never +expected or desired to see his son, whatever the future held, and +that, having arranged for food and shelter, he meant to wash his +hands of the whole transaction. The honest guardian's sole +instructions were to keep mum as the grave; to provide the +necessaries of life as long as the boy was dependent upon him; not +to interfere with him in any way; but if he left, always to keep an +eye on him, and stand ready to produce him on demand. To these +things, and particularly to absolute secrecy, Tim was sworn by the +most awful of oaths; and so he and his master parted. A week later +a carriage was driven up to Tim's residence in the dead of the +night, and a small bundle of caterwauling humankind was transferred +from the one to the other. Such was the beginning of the life of +young Queed. The woman, his mother, had died a day or two before, +and where she had been buried Tim had no idea.</p> +<p>So the years passed, while the Queeds watched with amazement the +subtly expanding verification of the adage that blood will tell. +For Mr. Surface, said Tim, had been a great scholard, and used to +sit up to all hours reading books that Thomason, the butler, +couldn't make head nor tail of; and so with Surface's boy. He was +the strange duckling among chickens who, with no guidance, +straightway plumed himself for the seas of printed knowledge. Time +rolled on. When Surface was released from prison, as the papers +announced, there occurred not the smallest change in the status of +affairs; except that the monthly remittances now bore the name of +Nicolovius, and came from Chicago or some other city in the west. +More years passed; and at last, one day, after a lapse of nearly a +quarter of a century, the unexpected happened, as it really will +sometimes. Tim got a letter in a handwriting he knew well, +instructing him to call next day at such-and-such a time and +place.</p> +<p>Tim was not disobedient to the summons. He called; and found, +instead of the dashing young master he had once known, a soft and +savage old man whom he at first utterly failed to recognize. +Surface paced the floor and spoke his mind. It seemed that an +irresistible impulse had led him back to his old home city; that he +had settled and taken work there; and there meant to end his days. +Under these circumstances, some deep-hidden instinct—a whim, +the old man called it—had put it into his head to consider +the claiming and final acknowledgment of his son. After all the +Ishmaelitish years of bitterness and wandering, Surface's blood, it +seemed, yearned for his blood. But under no circumstances, he told +Tim, would he acknowledge his son before his death, since that +would involve the surrender of his incognito; and not even then, so +the old man swore, unless he happened to be pleased with the +youth—the son of his body whom he had so utterly neglected +through all these years. Therefore, his plan was to have the boy +where they would meet as strangers; where he could have an +opportunity to watch, weigh, and come to know him in the most +casual way; and thereafter to act as he saw fit.</p> +<p>So there, in the shabby lodging-house, the little scheme was +hatched out. Surface undertook by his own means to draw his son, as +the magnet the particle of steel, to his city. Tim, to whom the +matter was sure to be broached, was to encourage the young man to +go. But more than this: it was to be Tim's diplomatic task to steer +him to the house where Surface, as Nicolovius, resided. Surface +himself had suggested the device by which this was to be done; +merely that Tim, mentioning the difficulties of the boarding-house +question in a strange city, was to recall that through the lucky +chance of having a cousin in this particular city, he knew of just +the place: a house where accommodations were of the best, +particularly for those who liked quiet for studious work, and +prices ridiculously low. The little stratagem worked admirably. The +address which Tim gave young Surface was the address of Mrs. +Paynter's, where Surface Senior had lived for nearly three years. +And so the young man had gone to his father, straight as a homing +pigeon.</p> +<p>How strange, how strange to look back on all this now!</p> +<p>Half reclining in the nurse's chair, unseeing eyes on the shaded +and shuttered window, for the fiftieth time Queed let his mind go +back over his days at Mrs. Paynter's, reading them all anew in the +light of his staggering knowledge. With three communications of the +most fragmentary sort, his father had had his full will of his son. +With six typewritten lines, he had drawn the young man to his side +at his own good pleasure. Boarding-house gossip made it known that +the son was in peril of ejectment for non-payment of board, and a +twenty-dollar bill had been promptly transmitted—at some risk +of discovery—to ease his stringency. Last came the mysterious +counsel to make friends and to like people, the particular friends +and people intended being consolidated, he could understand now, in +the person of old Nicolovius. And that message out of the unknown +had had its effect: Queed could see that now, at any rate. His +father clearly had been satisfied with the result; he appeared as +his father no more. Thenceforward he stalked his prey as +Nicolovius—with what consummate skill and success!</p> +<p>Oh, but did he not have a clever father, a stealthy, cunning, +merciless father, soft-winged, foul-eyed, hungry-taloned, flitting +noiselessly in circles, that grew ever and ever narrower, sure, and +unfaltering to the final triumphant swoop! Or no—Rather a +coiled and quiescent father, horrible-eyed, lying in slimy rings at +the foot of the tree, basilisk gaze fixed upward, while the +enthralled bird fluttered hopelessly down, twig by twig, ever +nearer and nearer.</p> +<p>But no—his metaphors were very bad; he was +sentimentalizing, rhetorizing, a thing that he particularly +abhorred. Not in any sense was he the pitiful prey of his father, +the hawk or the snake. Rather was he glad that, after long doubt +and perplexity, at last he knew. For that was the passion of all +his chaste life: to know the truth and to face it without fear.</p> +<p>Surface stirred slightly in his bed, and Queed, turning his +eyes, let them rest briefly on that repulsive face. <i>His +father</i>!... And he must wear that name and shoulder that infamy +forevermore!</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The nurse came back and relieved him of his vigil. He descended +the stairs to his solitary dinner. And as he went, and while he +lingered over food which he did not eat, his thoughts withdrew from +his terrible inheritance to centre anew on the fact that, within an +hour, he was to see Miss Weyland again.</p> +<p>The prospect drew him while it even more strongly repelled.</p> +<p>For a week he had hesitated, unable to convince himself that he +was justified in telling Miss Weyland at once the whole truth about +himself, his father, and her money. There was much on the side of +delay. Surface might die at any moment, and this would relieve his +son from the smallest reproach of betraying a confidence: the old +man himself had said that everything was to be made known when he +died. On the other hand Surface might get well, and if he did, he +ought to be given a final chance to make the restitution himself. +Besides this, there was the great uncertainty about the money. +Queed had no idea how much it was, or where it was, or whether or +not, upon Surface's death, he himself was to get it by bequest. But +all through these doubts, passionately protesting against them, had +run his own insistent feeling that it was not right to conceal the +truth, even under such confused conditions—not, at least, +from the one person who was so clearly entitled to know it. This +feeling had reached a climax even before he met the girl this +afternoon. Somehow that meeting had served to precipitate his +decision. After all, Surface had had both his chance and his +warning.</p> +<p>That his sonship would make him detestable in Miss Weyland's +sight was highly probable, but he could not let the fear of that +keep him silent. His determination to tell her the essential facts +had come now, at last, as a kind of corollary to his instant +necessity of straightening out the reformatory situation. This +latter necessity had dominated his thought ever since the chance +meeting in the post-office. And as his mind explored the subject, +it ramified, and grew more complicated and oppressive with every +step of the way.</p> +<p>It gradually became plain to him that, in clearing himself of +responsibility for the <i>Post's</i> editorial, he would have to +put West in a very unpleasant position. He would have to convict +him, not only of having written the perfidious article, but of +having left another man under the reproach of having written it. +But no; it could not be said that he was putting West in this +position. West had put himself there. It was he who had written the +article, and it was he who had kept silent about it. Every man must +accept the responsibility for his own acts, or the world would soon +be at sixes and sevens. In telling Miss Weyland the truth about the +matter, as far as that went, he would be putting himself in an +unpleasant position. Nobody liked to see one man "telling on" +another. He did not like it himself, as he remembered, for +instance, in the case of young Brown in the Blaines College hazing +affair.</p> +<p>Queed sat alone in the candle-lit dining-room, thinking things +out. A brilliant idea came to him. He would telephone to West, +explain the situation to him, and ask him to set it right +immediately. West, of course, would do so. At the worst, he had +only temporized with the issue—perhaps had lost sight of it +altogether—and he would be shocked to learn of the +consequences of his procrastination. He himself could postpone his +call on Miss Weyland till to-morrow, leaving West to go to-night. +Of course, however, nothing his former chief could do now would +change the fact that Miss Weyland herself had doubted him.</p> +<p>Undoubtedly, the interview would be a painful one for West. How +serious an offense the girl considered the editorial had been plain +in his own brief conversation with her. And West would have to +acknowledge, further, that he had kept quiet about it for a week. +Miss Weyland would forgive West, of course, but he could never be +the same to her again. He would always have that spot. Queed +himself felt that way about it. He had admired West more than any +man he ever knew, more even than Colonel Cowles, but now he could +never think very much of him again. He was quite sure that Miss +Weyland was like that, too. Thus the matter began to grow very +serious. For old Surface, who was always right about people, had +said that West was the man that Miss Weyland meant to marry.</p> +<p>Very gradually, for the young man was still a slow analyst where +people were concerned, an irresistible conclusion was forced upon +him.</p> +<p>Miss Weyland would rather think that he had written the +editorial than to know that West had written it.</p> +<p>The thought, when he finally reached it, leapt up at him, but he +pushed it away. However, it returned. It became like one of those +swinging logs which hunters hang in trees to catch bears: the +harder he pushed it away, the harder it swung back at him.</p> +<p>He fully understood the persistence of this idea. It was the +heart and soul of the whole question. He himself was simply Miss +Weyland's friend, the least among many. If belief in his dishonesty +had brought her pain—and he had her word for that—it +was a hurt that would quickly pass. False friends are soon +forgotten. But to West belonged the shining pedestal in the +innermost temple of her heart. It would go hard with the little +lady to find at the last moment this stain upon her lover's +honor.</p> +<p>He had only to sit still and say nothing to make her happy. That +was plain. So the whole issue was shifted. It was not, as it had +first seemed, merely a matter between West and himself. The real +issue was between Miss Weyland and himself—between her +happiness and his ... no, not his happiness—his self-respect, +his sense of justice, his honor, his chaste passion for Truth, his +... yes, his happiness.</p> +<p>Did he think most of Miss Weyland or of himself? That was what +it all came down to. Here was the new demand that his +acknowledgment of a personal life was making upon him, the supreme +demand, it seemed, that any man's personal life could ever make +upon him. For if, on the day when Nicolovius had suddenly revealed +himself as Surface, he had been asked to give himself bodily, he +was now asked to give himself spiritually—to give all that +made him the man he was.</p> +<p>From the stark alternative, once raised, there was no escape. +Queed closed with it, and together they went down into deep +waters.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>In which Queed's Shoulders can bear One Man's Roguery and +Another's Dishonor, and of what these Fardels cost him: how for the +Second Time in his Life he stays out of Bed to think.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Sharlee, sitting upstairs, took the card from the tray and, +seeing the name upon it, imperceptibly hesitated. But even while +hesitating, she rose and turned to her dressing-table mirror.</p> +<p>"Very well. Say that I'll be down in a minute."</p> +<p>She felt nervous, she did not know why; chilled at her hands and +cold within; she rubbed her cheeks vigorously with a handkerchief +to restore to them some of the color which had fled. There was a +slightly pinched look at the corners of her mouth, and she smiled +at her reflection in the glass, somewhat artificially and +elaborately, until she had chased it away. Undoubtedly she had been +working too hard by day, and going too hard by night; she must let +up, stop burning the candle at both ends. But she must see Mr. +Queed, of course, to show him finally that no explanation could +explain now. It came into her mind that this was but the third time +he had ever been inside her house—the third, and it was the +last.</p> +<p>He had been shown into the front parlor, the stiffer and less +friendly of the two rooms, and its effect of formality matched well +with the temper of their greeting. By the obvious stratagem of +coming down with book in one hand and some pretense at fancy-work +in the other, Sharlee avoided shaking hands with him. Having served +their purpose, the small burdens were laid aside upon the table. He +had been standing, awaiting her, in the shadows near the mantel; +the chair that he chanced to drop into stood almost under one of +the yellow lamps; and when she saw his face, she hardly repressed a +start. For he seemed to have aged ten years since he last sat in +her parlor, and if she had thought his face long ago as grave as a +face could be, she now perceived her mistake.</p> +<p>The moment they were seated he began, in his usual voice, and +with rather the air of having thought out in advance exactly what +he was to say.</p> +<p>"I have come again, after all, to talk only of definite things. +In fact, I have something of much importance to tell you. May I ask +that you will consider it as confidential for the present?"</p> +<p>At the very beginning she was disquieted by the discovery that +his gaze was steadier than her own. She was annoyingly conscious of +looking away from him, as she said:—</p> +<p>"I think you have no right to ask that of me."</p> +<p>Surface's son smiled sadly. "It is not about—anything that +you could possibly guess. I have made a discovery of—a +business nature, which concerns you vitally."</p> +<p>"A discovery?"</p> +<p>"Yes. The circumstances are such that I do not feel that anybody +should know of it just yet, but you. However—"</p> +<p>"I think you must leave me to decide, after hearing +you—"</p> +<p>"I believe I will. I am not in the least afraid to do so. Miss +Weyland, Henry G. Surface is alive."</p> +<p>Her face showed how completely taken back she was by the +introduction of this topic, so utterly remote from the subject she +had expected of him.</p> +<p>"Not only that," continued Queed, evenly—"he is within +reach. Both he—and some property which he has—are +within reach of the courts."</p> +<p>"Oh! How do you know?... Where is he?"</p> +<p>"For the present I am not free to answer those questions."</p> +<p>There was a brief silence. Sharlee looked at the fire, the +stirrings of painful memories betrayed in her eyes.</p> +<p>"We knew, of course, that he might be still alive," she said +slowly. "I—hope he is well and happy. But—we have no +interest in him now. That is all closed and done with. As for the +courts—I am sure that he has been punished already more than +enough."</p> +<p>"It is not a question of punishing him any more. You fail to +catch my meaning, it seems. It has come to my knowledge that he has +some money, a good deal of it—"</p> +<p>"But you cannot have imagined that I would want his money?"</p> +<p>"His money? He has none. It is all yours. That is why I am +telling you about it."</p> +<p>"Oh, but that can't be possible. I don't understand."</p> +<p>Sitting upright in his chair, as businesslike as an attorney, +Queed explained how Surface had managed to secrete part of the +embezzled trustee funds, and had been snugly living on it ever +since his release from prison.</p> +<p>"The exact amount is, at present, mere guesswork. But I think it +will hardly fall below fifty thousand dollars, and it may run as +high as a hundred thousand. I learn that Mr. Surface thinks, or +pretends to think, that this money belongs to him. He is, needless +to say, wholly mistaken. I have taken the liberty of consulting a +lawyer about it, of course laying it before him as a hypothetical +case. I am advised that when Mr. Surface was put through +bankruptcy, he must have made a false statement in order to +withhold this money. Therefore, that settlement counts for nothing, +except to make him punishable for perjury now. The money is yours +whenever you apply for it. That—"</p> +<p>"Oh—but I shall not apply for it. I don't want it, you +see."</p> +<p>"It is not a question of whether you want it or not. It is +yours—in just the way that the furniture in this room is +yours. You simply have no right to evade it."</p> +<p>Through all the agitation she felt in the sudden dragging out of +this long-buried subject, his air of dictatorial authority brought +the blood to her cheek.</p> +<p>"I have a right to evade it, in the first place, and in the +second, I am not evading it at all. He took it; I let him keep it. +That is the whole situation. I don't want it—I couldn't touch +it—"</p> +<p>"Well, don't decide that now. There would be no harm, I suppose, +in your talking with your mother about it—even with some man +in whose judgment you have confidence. You will feel differently +when you have had time to think it over. Probably it—"</p> +<p>"Thinking it over will make not the slightest difference in the +way I feel—"</p> +<p>"Perhaps it would if you stopped thinking about it from a purely +selfish point of view. Other—"</p> +<p>"<i>What</i>?"</p> +<p>"I say," he repeated dryly, "that you should stop thinking of +the matter from a purely selfish point of view. Don't you know that +that is what you are doing? You are thinking only whether or not +you, personally, desire this money. Well, other people have an +interest in the question besides you. There is your mother, for +example. Why not consider it from her standpoint? Why not consider +it from—well, from the standpoint of Mr. Surface?"</p> +<p>"Of Mr. Surface?"</p> +<p>"Certainly. Suppose that in his old age he has become penitent, +and wants to do what he can to right the old wrong. Would you +refuse him absolution by declining to accept your own money?"</p> +<p>"I think it will be time enough to decide that when Mr. Surface +asks me for absolution."</p> +<p>"Undoubtedly. I have particularly asked, you remember, that you +do not make up your mind to anything now."</p> +<p>"But you," said she, looking at him steadily enough now—"I +don't understand how you happen to be here apparently both as my +counselor and Mr. Surface's agent."</p> +<p>"I have a right to both capacities, I assure you."</p> +<p>"Or—have you a habit of being—?"</p> +<p>She left her sentence unended, and he finished it for her in a +colorless voice.</p> +<p>"Of being on two sides of a fence, perhaps you were about to +say?"</p> +<p>She made no reply.</p> +<p>"That is what you were going to say, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I started to say that," she answered, "and then I thought +better of it."</p> +<p>She spoke calmly; but she was oddly disquieted by his fixed +gaze, and angry with herself for feeling it.</p> +<p>"I will tell you," said he, "how I happen to be acting in both +capacities."</p> +<p>The marks of his internal struggle broke through upon his face. +For the first time, it occurred to Sharlee, as she looked at the +new markings about his straight-cut mouth, that this old young man +whom she had commonly seen so matter-of-fact and self-contained, +might be a person of stronger emotions than her own. After all, +what did she really know about him?</p> +<p>As if to answer her, his controlled voice spoke.</p> +<p>"Mr. Surface is my father. I am his son."</p> +<p>She smothered a little cry. "<i>Your father</i>!"</p> +<p>"My name," he said, with a face of stone, "is Henry G. Surface, +Jr."</p> +<p>"Your father!" she echoed lifelessly.</p> +<p>Shocked and stunned, she turned her head hurriedly away; her +elbow rested on the broad chair-arm, and her chin sank into her +hand. Surface's son looked at her. It was many months since he had +learned to look at her as at a woman, and that is knowledge that is +not unlearned. His eyes rested upon her piled-up mass of crinkly +brown hair; upon the dark curtain of lashes lying on her cheek; +upon the firm line of the cheek, which swept so smoothly into the +white neck; upon the rounded bosom, now rising and falling so fast; +upon the whole pretty little person which could so stir him now to +undreamed depths of his being.... No altruism here, Fifi; no +self-denial to want to make <i>her</i> happy.</p> +<p>He began speaking quietly.</p> +<p>"I can't tell you now how I found out all this. It is a long +story; you will hear it all some day. But the facts are all clear. +I have been to New York and seen Tim Queed. It is—strange, is +it not? Do you remember that afternoon in my office, when I showed +you the letters from him? We little thought—"</p> +<p>"Oh me!" said Sharlee. "Oh me!"</p> +<p>She rose hastily and walked away from him, unable to bear the +look on his face. For a pretense of doing something, she went to +the fire and poked aimlessly at the glowing coals.</p> +<p>As on the afternoon of which he spoke, waves of pity for the +little Doctor's worse than fatherlessness swept through her; only +these waves were a thousand times bigger and stormier than those. +How hardly he himself had taken his sonship she read in the strange +sadness of his face. She dared not let him see how desperately +sorry for him she felt; the most perfunctory phrase might betray +her. Her knowledge of his falseness stood between them like a wall; +blindly she struggled to keep it staunch, not letting her rushing +pity undermine and crumble it. He had been false to her, like his +father. Father and son, they had deceived and betrayed her; honor +and truth were not in them.</p> +<p>"So you see," the son was saying, "I have a close personal +interest in this question of the money. Naturally it—means a +good deal to me to—have as much of it as possible restored. +Of course there is a great deal which—he took, and +which—we are not in position to restore at present. I will +explain later what is to be done about that—"</p> +<p>"Oh, don't!" she begged. "I never want to see or hear of it +again."</p> +<p>Suddenly she turned upon him, aware that her self-control was +going, but unable for her life to repress the sympathy for him +which welled up overwhelmingly from her heart.</p> +<p>"Won't you tell me something more about it? Please do! Where is +he? Have you seen him—?"</p> +<p>"I cannot tell you—"</p> +<p>"Oh, I will keep your confidence. You asked me if I would. I +will—won't you tell me? Is he here—in the +city—?"</p> +<p>"You must not ask me these questions," he said with some +evidence of agitation.</p> +<p>But even as he spoke, he saw knowledge dawn painfully on her +face. His shelter, after all, was too small; once her glance turned +that way, once her mind started upon conjectures, discovery had +been inevitable.</p> +<p>"Oh!" she cried, in a choked voice.... "It is Professor +Nicolovius!"</p> +<p>He looked at her steadily; no change passed over his face. When +all was said, he was glad to have the whole truth out; and he knew +the secret to be as safe with her as with himself.</p> +<p>"No one must know," he said sadly, "until his death. That is not +far away, I think."</p> +<p>She dropped into a chair, and suddenly buried her face in her +hands.</p> +<p>Surface's son had risen with her, but he did not resume his +seat. He stood looking down at her bowed head, and the expression +in his eyes, if she had looked up and captured it, might have taken +her completely by surprise.</p> +<p>His chance, indeed, had summoned him, though not for the perfect +sacrifice. Circumstance had crushed out most of the joy of giving. +For, first, she had suspected him, which nothing could ever blot +out; and now, when she knew the truth about him, there could hardly +be much left for him to give. It needed no treacherous editorial to +make her hate the son of his father; their friendship was over in +any case.</p> +<p>Still, it was his opportunity to do for her something genuine +and large; to pay in part the debt he owed her—the personal +and living debt, which was so much greater than the dead thing of +principal and interest.</p> +<p>No, no. It was not endurable that this proud little lady, who +kept her head so high, should find at the last moment, this stain +upon her lover's honor.</p> +<p>She dropped her hands and lifted a white face.</p> +<p>"And you—" she began unsteadily, but checked herself and +went on in a calmer voice. "And you—after what he has done to +you, too—you are going to stand by him—take his +name—accept that inheritance—<i>be</i> his son?"</p> +<p>"What else is there for me to do?"</p> +<p>Their eyes met, and hers were hurriedly averted.</p> +<p>"Don't you think," he said, "that that is the only thing to +do?"</p> +<p>Again she found it impossible to endure the knowledge of his +fixed gaze. She rose once more and stood at the mantel, her +forehead leaned against her hand upon it, staring unseeingly down +into the fire.</p> +<p>"How can I tell you how fine a thing you are doing—how +big—and splendid—when—"</p> +<p>A dark red color flooded his face from neck to forehead; it +receded almost violently leaving him whiter than before.</p> +<p>"Not at all! Not in the least!" he said, with all his old +impatience. "I could not escape if I would."</p> +<p>She seemed not to hear him. "How can I tell you that—and +about how sorry I am—when all the time it seems that I can +think only of—something else!"</p> +<p>"You are speaking of the reformatory," he said, with bracing +directness.</p> +<p>There followed a strained silence.</p> +<p>"Oh," broke from her—"how could you bear to do it?"</p> +<p>"Don't you see that we cannot possibly discuss it? It is a +question of one's honor—isn't it? It is impossible that such +a thing could be argued about."</p> +<p>"But—surely you have something to say—some +explanation to make! Tell me. You will not find me—a hard +judge."</p> +<p>"I'm sorry," he said brusquely, "but I can make no +explanation."</p> +<p>She was conscious that he stood beside her on the hearth-rug. +Though her face was lowered and turned from him, the eye of her +mind held perfectly the presentment of his face, and she knew that +more than age had gone over it since she had seen it last. Had any +other man in the world but West been in the balance, she felt that, +despite his own words, she could no longer believe him guilty. And +even as it was—how could that conceivably be the face of a +man who—</p> +<p>"Won't you shake hands?"</p> +<p>Turning, she gave him briefly the tips of fingers cold as ice. +As their hands touched, a sudden tragic sense overwhelmed him that +here was a farewell indeed. The light contact set him shaking; and +for a moment his iron self-control, which covered torments she +never guessed at, almost forsook him.</p> +<p>"Good-by. And may that God of yours who loves all that is +beautiful and sweet be good to you—now and always."</p> +<p>She made no reply; he wheeled, abruptly, and left her. But on +the threshold he was checked by the sound of her voice.</p> +<p>The interview, from the beginning, had profoundly affected her; +these last words, so utterly unlike his usual manner of speech, had +shaken her through and through. For some moments she had been +miserably aware that, if he would but tell her everything and throw +himself on her mercy, she would instantly forgive him. And now, +when she saw that she could not make him do that, she felt that +tiny door, which she had thought double-locked forever, creaking +open, and heard herself saying in a small, desperate +voice:—</p> +<p>"<i>You did write it, didn't you</i>?"</p> +<p>But he paused only long enough to look at her and say, quite +convincingly:—</p> +<p>"You need hardly ask that—now—need you?"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>He went home, to his own bedroom, lit his small student-lamp, +and sat down at his table to begin a new article. The debt of money +which was his patrimony required of him that he should make every +minute tell now.</p> +<p>In old newspaper files at the State Library, he had found the +facts of his father's defalcations. The total embezzlement from the +Weyland estate, allowing for $14,000 recovered in the enforced +settlement of Surface's affairs, stood at $203,000. But that was +twenty-seven years ago, and in all this time interest had been +doubling and redoubling: simple interest, at 4%, brought it to +$420,000; compound interest to something like $500,000, due at the +present moment. Against this could be credited only his father's +"nest-egg"—provided always that he could find +it—estimated at not less than $50,000. That left his father's +son staring at a debt of $450,000, due and payable now. It was of +course, utterly hopeless. The interest on that sum alone was +$18,000 a year, and he could not earn $5000 a year to save his +immortal soul.</p> +<p>So the son knew that, however desperately he might strive, he +would go to his grave more deeply in debt to Sharlee Weyland than +he stood at this moment. But of course it was the trying that +chiefly counted. The fifty thousand dollars, which he would turn +over to her as soon as he got it—how he was counting on a sum +as big as that!—would be a help; so would the three or four +thousand a year which he counted on paying toward keeping down the +interest. This money in itself would be a good. But much better +than that, it would stand as a gage that the son acknowledged and +desired to atone for his father's dishonor.</p> +<p>His book must stand aside now—it might be forever. +Henceforward he must count his success upon a cash-register. But +to-night his pencil labored and dragged. What he wrote he saw was +not good. He could do harder things than force himself to sit at a +table and put writing upon paper; but over the subtler processes of +his mind, which alone yields the rich fruit, no man is master. In +an hour he put out his lamp, undressed in the dark, and went to +bed.</p> +<p>He lay on his back in the blackness, and in all the world he +could find nothing to think about but Sharlee Weyland.</p> +<p>Of all that she had done for him, in a personal way, he had at +least tried to give her some idea; he was glad to remember that +now. And now at the last, when he was nearer worthy than ever +before, she had turned him out because she believed that he had +stooped to dishonor. She would have forgiven his sonship; he had +been mistaken about that. She had felt sympathy and sorrow for +Henry Surface's son, and not repulsion, for he had read it in her +face. But she could not forgive him a personal dishonor. And he was +glad that, so believing, she would do as she had done; it was the +perfect thing to do; to demand honor without a blemish, or to +cancel all. Never had she stood so high in his fancy as now when +she had ordered him out of her life. His heart leapt with the +knowledge that, though she would never know it, he was her true +mate there, in their pure passion for Truth.</p> +<p>Whatever else might or might not have been, the knowledge +remained with him that she herself had suspected and convicted him. +In all that mattered their friendship had ended there. Distrust was +unbearable between friends. It was a flaw in his little lady that +she could believe him capable of baseness.... But not an +unforgivable flaw, it would seem, since every hour that he had +spent in her presence had become roses and music in his memory, and +the thought that he would see her no more stabbed ceaselessly at +his heart.</p> +<p>Yes, Surface's son knew very well what was the matter with him +now. The knowledge pulled him from his bed to a seat by the open +window; dragged him from his chair to send him pacing on bare feet +up and down his little bedroom, up and down, up and down; threw him +later, much later, into his chair again, to gaze out, quiet and +exhausted, over the sleeping city.</p> +<p>He had written something of love in his time. In his perfect +scheme of human society, he had diagnosed with scientific precision +the instinct of sex attraction implanted in man's being for the +most obvious and grossly practical of reasons: an illusive +candle-glow easily lit, quickly extinguished when its uses were +fulfilled. And lo, here was love tearing him by the throat till he +choked; an exquisite torture, a rampant passion, a devastating +flame, that most glorified when it burned most deeply, aroar and +ablaze forevermore.</p> +<p>He sat by the window and looked out over the sleeping city.</p> +<p>By slow degrees, he had allowed himself to be drawn from his +academic hermitry into contact with the visible life around him. +And everywhere that he had touched life, it had turned about and +smitten him. He had meant to be a great editor of the <i>Post</i> +some day, and the <i>Post</i> had turned him out with a brand of +dishonor upon his forehead. He had tried to befriend a friendless +old man, and he had acquired a father whose bequest was a rogue's +debt, and his name a byword and a hissing. He had let himself be +befriended by a slim little girl with a passion for Truth and +enough blue eyes for two, and the price of that contact was this +pain in his heart which would not be still ... which would not be +still.</p> +<p>Yet he would not have had anything different, would not have +changed anything if he could. He was no longer the pure scientist +in the observatory, but a bigger and better thing, a man ... A man +down in the thick of the hurly-burly which we call This Life, and +which, when all is said, is all that we certainly know. Not by pen +alone, but also by body and mind and heart and spirit, he had taken +his man's place in Society. And as for this unimagined pain that +strung his whole being upon the thumb-screw, it was nothing but the +measure of the life he had now, and had it more abundantly. Oh, all +was for the best, all as it should be. He knew the truth about +living at last, and it is the truth that makes men free.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Death of the Old Professor, and how Queed finds that his List +of Friends has grown; a Last Will and Testament; Exchange of +Letters among Prominent Attorneys, which unhappily proves +futile.</i></p> +</div> +<p>On the merriest, maddest day in March, Henry G. Surface, who had +bitterly complained of earthly justice, slipped away to join the +invisible procession which somewhere winds into the presence of the +Incorruptible Judge. He went with his lips locked. At the last +moment there had been faint signs of recurring consciousness; the +doctor had said that there was one chance in a hundred that the +dying man might have a normal moment at the end. On this chance his +son had said to the nurse, alone with him in the room:—</p> +<p>"Will you kindly leave me with him a moment? If he should be +conscious there is a private question of importance that I must ask +him."</p> +<p>She left him. The young man knelt down by the bedside, and put +his lips close to the old man's ear. Vainly he tried to drive his +voice into that stilled consciousness, and drag from his father the +secret of the hiding-place of his loot.</p> +<p>"Father!" he said, over and over. "Father! <i>Where is the +money?</i>"</p> +<p>There was no doubt that the old man stirred a little. In the dim +light of the room it seemed to his son that his right eye half +opened, leaving the other closed in a ghastly parody of a wink, +while the upper lip drew away from the strong teeth like an evil +imitation of the old bland sneer. But that was all.</p> +<p>So Surface died, and was gathered to his fathers. The embargo of +secrecy was lifted; and the very first step toward righting the +ancient wrong was to let the full facts be known. Henry G. Surface, +Jr., took this step, in person, by at once telephoning all that was +salient to the <i>Post</i>. Brower Williams, the <i>Post's</i> city +editor, at the other end of the wire, called the name of his God in +holy awe at the dimensions of the scoop thus dropped down upon him +as from heaven; and implored the Doc, for old time's sake, by all +that he held most sacred and most dear, to say not a word till the +evening papers were out, thus insuring the sensation for the +<i>Post</i>.</p> +<p>Mr. Williams's professional appraisement of the scoop proved not +extravagant. The <i>Post's</i> five columns next morning threw the +city into something like an uproar. It is doubtful if you would not +have to go back to the '60's to find a newspaper story which +eclipsed this one in effect. For a generation, the biography of +Henry G. Surface had had, in that city and State, a quality of +undying interest, and the sudden denouement, more thrilling than +any fiction, captured the imagination of the dullest. Nothing else +was mentioned at any breakfast-table where a morning paper was +taken that day; hardly anything for many breakfasts to follow. In +homes containing boys who had actually studied Greek under the +mysterious Professor Nicolovius at Mimer's School, discussion grew +almost hectic; while at Mrs. Paynter's, where everybody was +virtually a leading actor in the moving drama, the excitement +closely approached delirium.</p> +<p>Henry G. Surface, Jr., was up betimes on the morning after his +father's death—in fact, as will appear, he had not found time +to go to bed at all—and the sensational effects of the +<i>Post's</i> story were not lost upon him. As early as seven +o'clock, a knot of people had gathered in front of the little house +on Duke of Gloucester Street, staring curiously at the shut blinds, +and telling each other, doubtless, how well they had known the dead +man. When young Surface came out of the front door, an awed hush +fell upon them; he was aware of their nudges, and their curious but +oddly respectful stare. And this, at the very beginning, was +typical of the whole day; wherever he went, he found himself an +object of the frankest public curiosity. But all of this interest, +he early discovered, was neither cool nor impersonal.</p> +<p>To begin with, there was the <i>Post's</i> story itself. As he +hurried through it very early in the morning, the young man was +struck again and again with the delicacy of the phrasing. And +gradually it came to him that the young men of the <i>Post</i> had +made very special efforts to avoid hurting the feelings of their +old associate and friend the Doc. This little discovery had touched +him unbelievably. And it was only part with other kindness that +came to him to soften that first long day of his acknowledged +sonship. Probably the sympathy extended to him from various sources +was not really so abundant, but to him, having looked for nothing, +it was simply overwhelming. All day, it seemed to him, his +door-bell and telephone rang, all day unexpected people of all +sorts and conditions stopped him on the street—only to tell +him, in many ways and sometimes without saying a word about it, +that they were sorry.</p> +<p>The very first of them to come was Charles Gardiner West, +stopping on his way to the office, troubled, concerned, truly +sympathetic, to express, in a beautiful and perfect way, his +lasting interest in his one-time assistant. Not far behind him had +come Mr. Hickok, the director who looked like James E. Winter, who +had often chatted with the assistant editor in times gone by, and +who spoke confidently of the day when he would come back to the +<i>Post</i>. Beverley Byrd had come, too, manly and friendly; +Plonny Neal, ill at ease for once in his life; Evan Montague, of +the <i>Post</i>, had asked to be allowed to make the arrangements +for the funeral; Buck Klinker had actually made those arrangements. +Better than most of these, perhaps, were the young men of the +Mercury, raw, embarrassed, genuine young men, who, stopping him on +the street, did not seem to know why they stopped him, who, lacking +West's verbal felicity, could do nothing but take his hand, hot +with the fear that they might be betrayed into expressing any +feeling, and stammer out: "Doc, if you want anything—why +dammit, Doc—you call on <i>me</i>, hear?"</p> +<p>Best of all had been Buck Klinker—Buck, who had made him +physically, who had dragged him into contact with life over his own +protests, who had given him the first editorial he ever wrote that +was worth reading—Buck, the first real friend he had ever +had. It was to Buck that he had telephoned an hour after his +father's death, for he needed help of a practical sort at once, and +his one-time trainer was the man of all men to give it to him. Buck +had come, constrained and silent; he was obviously awed by the +Doc's sudden emergence into stunning notoriety. To be Surface's son +was, to him, like being the son of Iscariot and Lucrezia Borgia. On +the other hand, he was aware that, of Klinkers and Queeds, a +Surface might proudly say: "There are no such people." So he had +greeted his friend stiffly as Mr. Surface, and was amazed at the +agitation with which that usually impassive young man had put a +hand upon his shoulder and said: "I'm the same Doc always to you, +Buck, only now I'm Doc Surface instead of Doc Queed." After that +everything had been all right. Buck had answered very much after +the fashion of the young men of the Mercury, and then rushed off to +arrange for the interment, and also to find for Doc Surface +lodgings somewhere which heavily undercut Mrs. Paynter's modest +prices.</p> +<p>The sudden discovery that he was not alone in the world, that he +had friends in it, real friends who believed in him and whom +nothing could ever take away, shook the young man to the depths of +his being. Was not this compensation for everything? Never had he +imagined that people could be so kind; never had he dreamed that +people's kindness could mean so much to him. In the light of this +new knowledge, it seemed to him that the last scales fell from his +eyes ... Were not these friendships, after all, the best work of a +man's life? Did he place a higher value even on his book itself, +which, it seemed, he might never finish now?</p> +<p>And now there returned to him something that the dead old +Colonel had told him long ago, and to-day he saw it for truth. +However his father had wronged him, he would always have this, at +least, to bless his memory for. For it was his father who had +called him to live in this city where dwelt, as the strong voice +that was now still had said, the kindest and sweetest people in the +world.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Henry G. Surface died at half-past two o'clock on the afternoon +of March 24. At one o'clock that night, while the <i>Post's</i> +startling story was yet in process of the making, his son stood at +the mantel in Surface's sitting-room, and looked over the wreck +that his hands had made. That his father's treasures were hidden +somewhere here he had hardly entertained a doubt. Yet he had pulled +the place all to pieces without finding a trace of them.</p> +<p>The once pretty sitting-room looked, indeed, as if a tornado had +struck it. The fireplace was a litter of broken brick and mortar; +half the floor was ripped up and the boards flung back anyhow; +table drawers and bookcases had been ransacked, and looked it; +books rifled in vain were heaped in disorderly hummocks wherever +there was room for them; everywhere a vandal hand had been, leaving +behind a train of devastation and ruin.</p> +<p>And it had all been fruitless. He had been working without pause +since half-past six o'clock, and not the smallest clue had rewarded +him.</p> +<p>It was one of those interludes when early spring demonstrates +that she could play August convincingly had she a mind to. The +night was stifling. That the windows had to be shut tight, to +deaden the noise of loosening brick and ripping board, made matters +so much the worse. Surface was stripped to the waist, and it needed +no second glance at him, as he stood now, to see that he was +physically competent. There was no one-sided over-development here; +Klinker's exercises, it will be remembered, were for all parts of +the body. Shoulders stalwart, but not too broad, rounded +beautifully into the upper arm; the chest swelled like a full sail; +many a woman in that town had a larger waist. Never he moved but +muscle flowed and rippled under the shining skin; he raised his +right hand to scratch his left ear, and the hard blue biceps leaped +out like a live thing. In fact, it had been some months since the +young man had first entertained the suspicion that he could +administer that thrashing to Mr. Pat whenever he felt inclined. +Only it happened that he and Mr. Pat had become pretty good friends +now, and it was the proof-reader's boast that he had never once +made a bull in "Mr. Queed's copy" since the day of the famous +fleas.</p> +<p>In the quiet night the young man stood resting from his labors, +and taking depressed thought. He was covered with grime and +streaked with sweat; a ragged red stripe on his cheek, where a +board had bounced up and struck him, detracted nothing from the +sombreness of his appearance. Somewhere, valuable papers waited to +be found; bank-books, certainly; very likely stock or bonds or +certificates of deposit; please God, a will. Somewhere—but +where? From his father's significant remark during their last +conversation, he would have staked his life that all these things +were here, in easy reach. And yet—</p> +<p>Standing precariously on the loose-piled bricks of the +fireplace, he looked over the ravaged room. He felt profoundly +discouraged. Success in this search meant more to him than he liked +to think about, and now his chance of success had shrunk to the +vanishing point. The bowels of the room lay open before his eye, +and there was no hiding-place in them. He knew of nowhere else to +look. The cold fear seized him that the money and the papers were +hidden beyond his finding—that they lay tucked away in some +safety-deposit vault in New York, where his eye would never hunt +them out.</p> +<p>Surface's son leaned against the elaborate mantel, illimitably +weary. He shifted his position ever so little; and thereupon luck +did for him what reason would never have done. The brick on which +his right foot rested turned under his weight and he lost his +foothold. To save himself, he caught the mantel-top with both +hands, and the next moment pitched heavily backward to the +floor.</p> +<p>The mantel, in fact, had come off in his hands. It pitched to +the floor with him, speeding his fall, thumping upon his chest like +a vigorous adversary. But the violence of his descent only made him +the more sharply aware that this strange mantel had left its +moorings as though on greased rollers.</p> +<p>His heart playing a sudden drum-beat, he threw the carven timber +from him and bounded to his feet. The first flying glance showed +him the strange truth: his blundering feet had marvelously stumbled +into his father's arcana. For he looked, not at an unsightly mass +of splintered laths and torn wall-paper and shattered plaster, but +into as neat a little cupboard as a man could wish.</p> +<p>The cupboard was as wide as the mantel itself; lined and ceiled +with a dark red wood which beautifully threw back the glare of the +dancing gas-jet. It was half-full of things, old books, letters, +bundles of papers held together with rubber bands, canvas +bags—all grouped and piled in the most orderly way about a +large tin dispatch-box. This box drew the young man's gaze like a +sudden shout; he was hardly on his feet before he had sprung +forward and jerked it out. Instantly the treacherous bricks threw +him again; sprawled on the floor he seized one of them and smashed +through the hasp at a blow.</p> +<p>Bit by bit the illuminating truth came out. In all his own +calculations, close and exact as he had thought them, he had lost +sight of one simple but vital fact. In the years that he had been +in prison, his father had spent no money beyond the twenty-five +dollars a month to Tim Queed; and comparatively little in the years +of his wanderings. In all this time the interest upon his +"nest-egg" had been steadily accumulating. Five per cent railroad +bonds, and certificates of deposit in four different banks, were +the forms in which the money had been tucked away, by what devilish +cleverness could only be imagined. But the simple fact was that his +father had died worth not less than two hundred thousand dollars +and probably more. And this did not include the house, which, it +appeared, his father had bought, and not leased as he said; nor did +it include four thousand four hundred dollars in gold and banknotes +which he found in the canvas sacks after his first flying +calculation was made.</p> +<p>Early in the morning, when the newsboys were already crying the +<i>Post</i> upon the streets, young Henry Surface came at last upon +the will. It was very brief, but entirely clear and to the point. +His father had left to him without conditions, everything of which +he died possessed. The will was dated in June of the previous +summer—he recalled a two days' absence of his father's at +that time—and was witnessed, in a villainous hand, by Timothy +Queed.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>There were many formalities to be complied with, and some of +them would take time. But within a week matters were on a solid +enough footing to warrant a first step; and about this time Sharlee +Weyland read, at her breakfast-table one morning, a long letter +which surprised and disturbed her very much.</p> +<p>The letter came from a well-known firm of attorneys. At great +length it rehearsed the misfortunes that had befallen the Weyland +estate, through the misappropriations of the late Henry G. Surface. +But the gist of this letter, briefly put, was that the late Henry +G. Surface had died possessed of a property estimated to be worth +two hundred thousand dollars, either more or less; that this +property was believed to be merely the late trustee's +appropriations from the Weyland estate, with accrued interest; that +"our client Mr. Henry G. Surface, Jr., heir by will to his father's +ostensible property," therefore purposed to pay over this sum to +the Weyland estate, as soon as necessary formalities could be +complied with; and that, further, our client, Mr. Henry G. Surface, +Jr., assumed personal responsibility "for the residue due to your +late father's estate, amounting to one hundred and seventeen +thousand dollars, either more or less, with interest since 1881; +and this debt, he instructs us to say, he will discharge from time +to time, as his own resources will permit."</p> +<p>So wrote Messrs. Blair and Jamieson to Miss Charlotte Lee +Weyland, congratulating her, "in conclusion, upon the strange +circumstances which have brought you, after so long an interval, +justice and restitution," and begging to remain very respectfully +hers. To which letter after four days' interval, they received the +following reply:</p> +<p>Messrs. Blair & Jamieson,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Commonwealth Building,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">City.</span></p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>DEAR SIRS:—</p> +<br /> +<p>Our client, Miss C.L. Weyland, of this city, instructs us to +advise you, in reply to your letter of the 4th inst., directed to +her, that, while thanking you for the expression of intention +therein contained anent the property left by the late Henry G. +Surface, and very cordially appreciating the spirit actuating Mr. +Henry G. Surface, Jr., in the matter, she nevertheless feels +herself without title or claim to said property, and therefore +positively declines to accept it, in whole or in any part.</p> +<p>Respectfully yours,</p> +<p>AMPERSAND, BOLLING AND BYRD.</p> +</div> +<p>A more argumentative and insistent letter from Messrs. Blair and +Jamieson was answered with the same brief positiveness by Messrs. +Ampersand, Bolling and Byrd. Thereafter, no more communications +were exchanged by the attorneys. But a day or two after her second +refusal, Sharlee Weyland received another letter about the matter +of dispute, this time a more personal one. The envelope was +directed in a small neat hand which she knew very well; she had +first seen it on sheets of yellow paper in Mrs. Paynter's +dining-room. The letter said:</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>DEAR Miss WEYLAND:—</p> +<p>Your refusal to allow my father's estate to restore to you, so +far as it can, the money which it took from you, and thus to right, +in part, a grave wrong, is to me a great surprise and +disappointment. I had not thought it possible that you, upon due +reflection, could take a position the one obvious effect of which +is to keep a son permanently under the shadow of his father's +dishonor.</p> +<p>Do not, of course, misunderstand me. I have known you too well +to believe for a moment that you can be swayed by ungenerous +motives. I am very sure that you are taking now the part which you +believe most generous. But that view is, I assure you, so far from +the real facts that I can only conclude that you have refused to +learn what these facts are. Both legally and morally the money is +yours. No one else on earth has a shadow of claim to it. I most +earnestly beg that, in fairness to me, you will at least give my +attorneys the chance to convince yours that what I write here is +true and unanswerable.</p> +<p>Should you adhere to your present position, the money will, of +course, be trusteed for your benefit, nor will a penny of it be +touched until it is accepted, if not by you, then by your heirs or +assigns. But I cannot believe that you will continue to find +magnanimity in shirking your just responsibilities, and denying to +me my right to wipe out this stain.</p> +<p>Very truly yours,<br /> +<br /> +HENRY G. SURFACE, Jr.</p> +</div> +<p>No answer ever came to this letter, and there the matter rested +through March and into the sultry April.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>God moves in a Mysterious Way: how the Finished Miss Avery +appears as the Instrument of Providence; how Sharlee sees her Idol +of Many Years go toppling in the Dust, and how it is her Turn to +meditate in the Still Watches.</i></p> +</div> +<p>The print danced before his outraged eyes; his chest heaved at +the revolting evidence of man's duplicity; and Charles Gardiner +West laid down his morning's <i>Post</i> with a hand that +shook.</p> +<p><i>Meachy T. Bangor announces his candidacy for the nomination +for Mayor, subject to the Democratic primary.</i></p> +<p>For West had not a moment's uncertainty as to what this +announcement meant. Meachy T. Bangor spoke, nay invented, the +language of the tribe. He was elect of the elect; what the silent +powers that were thought was his thought; their ways were his ways, +their people his people. When Meachy T. Bangor announced that he +was a candidate for the nomination for Mayor, it meant that the +all-powerful machine had already nominated him for Mayor, and whom +the organization nominated it elected. Meachy T. Bangor! Plonny +Neal's young, progressive candidate of the reformer type!</p> +<p>Bitterness flooded West's soul when he thought of Plonny. Had +the boss been grossly deceived or grossly deceiving? Could that +honest and affectionate eye, whose look of frank admiration had +been almost embarrassing, have covered base and deliberate +treachery? Was it possible that he, West, who had always been +confident that he could see as far into a millstone as another, had +been a cheap trickster's easy meat?</p> +<p>Day by day, since the appearance of the reformatory article, +West had waited for some sign of appreciation and understanding +from those on the inside. None had come. Not a soul except himself, +and Plonny, had appeared aware that he, by a masterly compromise, +had averted disaster from the party, and clearly revealed himself +as the young man of destiny. On the contrary, the House spokesmen, +apparently utterly blind to any impending crisis, had, in the +closing hours of the session, voted away some eighty thousand +dollars of the hundred thousand rescued by West from the +reformatory, in a multiplication of offices which it was difficult +to regard as absolutely indispensable in a hard times year. This +action, tallying so closely with what his former assistant had +predicted, had bewildered and unsettled West; the continuing +silence of the leaders—"the other leaders," he had found +himself saying—had led him into anxious speculations; and +now, in a staggering burst, the disgraceful truth was revealed to +him. They had used him, tricked and used him like a smooth tool, +and having used him, had deliberately passed him, standing fine and +patient in the line, to throw the mantle over the corrupt and +unspeakable Bangor.</p> +<p>By heavens, it was not to be endured. Was it for this that he +had left Blaines College, where a career of honorable usefulness +lay before him; that he had sacrificed personal wishes and +ambitions to the insistent statement that his City and State had +need of him; that he had stood ten months in the line without a +murmur; and that at last, confronted with the necessity of choosing +between the wishes of his personal intimates and the larger good, +he had courageously chosen the latter and suffered in silence the +suspicion of having played false with the best friends he had in +the world? Was it for this that he had lost his valuable assistant, +whose place he could never hope to fill?—for this that he was +referred to habitually by an evening contemporary as the Plonny +Neal organ?</p> +<p>He was thoroughly disgusted with newspaper work this morning, +disgusted with the line, disgusted with hopeful efforts to uplift +the people. What did his <i>Post</i> work really amount +to?—unremitting toil, the ceaseless forcing up of immature +and insincere opinions, no thanks or appreciation anywhere, and at +the end the designation of the Plonny Neal organ. What did the +uplift amount to? Could progress really ever be forced a single +inch? And why should he wear out his life in the selfless service +of those who, it seemed, acknowledged no obligation to him? As for +public life, if this was a sample, the less he saw of it the +better. He would take anything in the world sooner than a career of +hypocrisy, double-dealing and treachery, of dirty looting in the +name of the public good, of degrading traffic with a crew of liars +and confidence men.</p> +<p>But through all the young man's indignation and resentment there +ran an unsteadying doubt, a miserable doubt of himself. Had his +motives in the reformatory matter been as absolutely spotless as he +had charmed himself into believing?... What manner of man was he? +Did he really have any permanent convictions about anything?... Was +it possible, was it thinkable or conceivable, that he was a +complaisant invertebrate whom the last strong man that had his ear +could play upon like a flute?</p> +<p>West passed a most unhappy morning. But at lunch, at the club, +it was his portion to have his buoyant good-humor completely +restored to him. He fell in with ancient boon companions; they made +much of him; involved him in gay talk; smoothed him down, patted +him on the head, found his self-esteem for him, and handed it over +in its pristine vigor. Before he had sat half an hour at the merry +table, he could look back at his profound depression of the morning +with smiling wonder. Where in the world had he gotten his terrible +grouch? Not a thing in the world had happened, except that the +mayoralty was not going to be handed to him on a large silver +platter. Was that such a fearful loss after all? On the contrary, +was it not rather a good riddance? Being Mayor, in all human +probability, would be a horrible bore.</p> +<p>It was a mild, azure, zephyrous day; spring at her brightest and +best. West, descending the club steps, sniffed the fragrant air +affectionately, and was hanged if he would go near the office on +such an afternoon. Let the <i>Post</i> readers plod along to-morrow +with an editorial page both skimpy and inferior; anything he gave +them would still be too good for them, middle-class drabs and +dullards that they were.</p> +<p>The big red automobile was old now, and needed paint, but it +still ran staunch and true; and Miss Avery had a face, a form, and +a sinuous graceful manner, had veils and hats and sinuous graceful +coats, that would have glorified a far less worthy vehicle. And she +drove divinely. By invitation she took the wheel that afternoon, +and with sure, clever hands whipped the docile leviathan over the +hills and far away.</p> +<p>The world knows how fate uses her own instruments in her own +way, frequently selecting far stranger ones than the delightful and +wealthy Miss Avery. Now for more than a year this accomplished girl +had been thinking that if Charles Gardiner West had anything to say +to her, it was high time that he should say it. If she had not set +herself to find out what was hobbling the tongue of the man she +wanted, she would have been less than a woman; and Miss Avery was a +good deal more. Hence, when she had seen West with Sharlee Weyland, +and in particular on the last two or three times she had seen West +with Sharlee Weyland, she had watched his manner toward that lady +with profound misgivings, of the sort which starts every true woman +to fighting for her own.</p> +<p>Now Miss Avery had a weapon, in the shape of valuable knowledge, +or, at any rate, a valuable suspicion that had lately reached her: +the suspicion, in short, which had somehow crept abroad as +suspicions will, that West had done a certain thing which another +man was supposed to have done. Therefore, when they turned homeward +in the soft dusk, her man having been brought to exactly the right +frame of mind, she struck with her most languorous voice.</p> +<p>"How is that dear little Charlotte Weyland? It seems to me I +haven't seen her for a year, though it was positively only last +week."</p> +<p>"Oh! She seemed very well when I saw her last."</p> +<p>So Mr. West, of the lady he was going to marry. For, though he +had never had just the right opportunity to complete the sweet +message he had begun at the Byrds' one night, his mind was still +quite made up on that point. It was true that the atmosphere of +riches which fairly exuded from the girl now at his side had a very +strong appeal for his lower instincts. But he was not a man to be +ridden by his lower instincts. No; he had set his foot upon the +fleshpots; his idealistic nature had overcome the world.</p> +<p>Miss Avery, sublimely unaware that Mr. West was going to offer +marriage to her rival during the present month, the marriage itself +to take place in October, indolently continued:—</p> +<p>"To my mind she's quite the most attractive dear little thing in +town. I suppose she's quite recovered from her disappointment over +the—hospital, or whatever it was?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I believe so. I never heard her mention it but once."</p> +<p>West's pleasant face had clouded a little. Through her +fluttering veil she noted that fact with distinct satisfaction.</p> +<p>"I never met that interesting young Mr. Surface," said she, +sweeping the car around a curve in the white road and evading five +women in a surrey with polished skill. "But—truly, I have +found myself thinking of him and feeling sorry for him more than +once."</p> +<p>"Sorry for him—What about?"</p> +<p>"Oh, haven't you heard, then? It's rather mournful. You see, +when Charlotte Weyland found out that he had written a certain +editorial in the <i>Post</i>—you know more about this part of +it than I—"</p> +<p>"But he didn't write it," said West, unhesitatingly. "I wrote it +myself."</p> +<p>"You?"</p> +<p>She looked at him with frank surprise in her eyes; not too much +frank surprise; rather as one who feels much but endeavors to +suppress it for courtesy's sake. "Forgive me—I didn't know. +There has been a little horrid gossip but of course nearly every +one has thought that he—"</p> +<p>"I'm sure I'm not responsible for what people think," said West, +a little aggressively, but with a strangely sinking heart. "There +has been not the slightest mystery or attempt at +concealment—"</p> +<p>"Oh! Then of course Charlotte knows all about it now?"</p> +<p>"I don't know whether she does or not. When I tried to tell her +the whole story," explained West, "soon after the incident +occurred, she was so agitated about it, the subject seemed so +painful to her, that I was forced to give it up. You can understand +my position. Ever since, I have been waiting for an opportunity to +take her quietly and straighten out the whole matter for her in a +calm and rational way. For her part she has evidently regarded the +subject as happily closed. Why under heaven should I press it upon +her—merely to gain the academic satisfaction of convincing +her that the <i>Post</i> acted on information superior and judgment +sounder than her own?"</p> +<p>Miss Avery, now devoting herself to her chauffeur's duties +through a moment of silence, was no match for Mr. West at the game +of ethical debate, and knew it. However, she held a very strong +card in her pongee sleeve, and she knew that too.</p> +<p>"I see—of course. You know I think you have been quite +right through it all. And yet—you won't mind?—I can't +help feeling sorry for Mr. Surface."</p> +<p>"Very well—you most mysterious lady. Go on and tell me why +you can't help feeling sorry for Mr. Surface."</p> +<p>Miss Avery told him. How she knew anything about the private +affairs of Mr. Surface and Miss Weyland, of which it is certain +that neither of them had ever spoken, is a mystery, indeed: but +Gossip is Argus and has a thousand ears to boot. Miss Avery was +careful to depict Sharlee's attitude toward the unfortunate Mr. +Surface as just severe enough to suggest to West that he must act +at once, and not so severe as to suggest to +him—conceivably—the desirability, from a selfish point +of view, of not acting at all. It was a task for a diplomat, which +is to say a task for a Miss Avery.</p> +<p>"Rather fine of him, wasn't it, to assume all the +blame?—particularly if it's true, as people say," concluded +Miss Avery, "that the man's in love with her and she cares nothing +for him."</p> +<p>"Fine—splendid—but entirely unnecessary," said +West.</p> +<p>The little story had disturbed him greatly. He had had no +knowledge of any developments between Sharlee and his former +assistant; and now he was unhappily conscious that he ought to have +spoken weeks ago.</p> +<p>"I'm awfully sorry to hear this," he resumed, "for I am much +attached to that boy. Still—if, as you say, everything is all +right now—"</p> +<p>"Oh, but I don't know at all that it is," said Miss Avery, +hastily. "That is just the point. The last I heard of it, she had +forbidden him her house."</p> +<p>"That won't do," said Charles Gardiner West, in a burst of +generosity. "I'll clear up that difficulty before I sleep +to-night."</p> +<p>And he was as good as his word, or, let us say, almost as good. +The next night but one he called upon Sharlee Weyland with two +unalterable purposes in his mind. One was to tell her the full +inside history of the reformatory article from the beginning. The +other was to notify her in due form that she held his heart in +permanent captivity.</p> +<p>To Miss Avery, it made not the slightest difference whether the +gifted and charming editor of the Post sold out his principles for +a price every morning in the month. At his pleasure he might +fracture all of the decalogue that was refinedly fracturable, and +so long as he rescued his social position intact from the ruin, he +was her man just the same. But she had an instinct, surer than +reasoned wisdom, that Sharlee Weyland viewed these matters +differently. Therefore she had sent West to make his little +confession, face to face. And therefore West, after an hour of +delightful <i>tête-à-tête</i> in the charming +little back parlor, stiffened himself up, his brow sicklying o'er +with the pale cast of disagreeable thought, and began to make +it.</p> +<p>"I've got to tell you something about—a subject that won't +be welcome to you," he plunged in, rather lugubriously. "I +mean—the reformatory."</p> +<p>Sharlee's face, which had been merry and sweet, instantly +changed and quieted at that word; interest sprang full-armed in her +deep blue eyes.</p> +<p>"Have you? Tell me anything about it you wish."</p> +<p>"You remember that—last editorial in the <i>Post?</i>"</p> +<p>"Do you think that I forget so easily?"</p> +<p>West hardly liked that reply. Nor had he ever supposed that he +would find the subject so difficult.</p> +<p>"Well! I was surprised and—hurt to +learn—recently—that you had—well, had been rather +severe with Surface, under the impression that—the full +responsibility for that article was his."</p> +<p>Sharlee sat in the same flowered arm-chair she had once occupied +to put this same Surface, then known as little Dr. Queed, in his +place. Her heart warmed to West for his generous impulse to +intercede. Still, she hardly conceived that her treatment of Mr. +Surface was any concern of Mr. West's.</p> +<p>"And so?"</p> +<p>"I must tell you," he said, oddly uneasy under her +straightforward look, "that—that you have made a mistake. The +responsibility is mine."</p> +<p>"Ah, you mean that you, as the editor, are willing to take +it."</p> +<p>"No," said West—"no"; and then suddenly he felt like a +rash suicide, repentant at the last moment. Already the waters were +rushing over his head; he felt a wild impulse to clutch at the +life-belt she had flung out to him. It is to be remembered to his +credit that he conquered it. "No,—I—I wrote the article +myself."</p> +<p>"You?"</p> +<p>Her monosyllable had been Miss Avery's, but there resemblance +parted. Sharlee sat still in her chair, and presently her lashes +fluttered and fell. To West's surprise, a beautiful color swept +upward from her throat to drown in her rough dark hair. "Oh," said +she, under her breath, "I'm glad—so <i>glad!</i>"</p> +<p>West heaved a great sigh of relief. It was all over, and she was +glad. Hadn't he known all along that a woman will always forgive +everything in the man she loves? She was glad because he had told +her when another man might have kept silent. And yet her look +perplexed him; her words perplexed him. Undoubtedly she must have +something more to say than a mere expression of vague general +gladness over the situation.</p> +<p>"Need I say that I never intended there should be any doubt +about the matter? I meant to explain it all to you long ago, only +there never seemed to be any suitable opportunity."</p> +<p>Sharlee's color died away. In silence she raised her eyes and +looked at him.</p> +<p>"I started to tell you all about it once, at the time, but you +know," he said, with a little nervous laugh, "you seemed to find +the subject so extremely painful then—that I thought I had +better wait till you could look at it more calmly."</p> +<p>Still she said nothing, but only sat still in her chair and +looked at him.</p> +<p>"I shall always regret," continued West, laboriously, "that +my—silence, which I assure you I meant in kindness, should +have—Why do you look at me that way, Miss Weyland?" he said, +with a quick change of voice. "I don't understand you."</p> +<p>Sharlee gave a small start and said: "Was I looking at you in +any particular way?"</p> +<p>"You looked as mournful," said West, with that same little +laugh, "as though you had lost your last friend. Now—"</p> +<p>"No, not my last one," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>"Well, don't look so sad about it," he said, in a voice of +affectionate raillery. "I am quite unhappy enough over it +without—"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I can't help you to feel happier—not to-night. +If I look sad, you see, it is because I feel that way."</p> +<p>"Sad?" he echoed, bewildered. "Why should you be sad +now—when it is all going to be straightened +out—when—"</p> +<p>"Well, don't you think it's pretty sad—the part that can't +ever be straightened out?"</p> +<p>Unexpectedly she got up, and walked slowly away, a disconcerting +trick she had; wandered about the room, looking about her something +like a stranger in a picture gallery; touching a bowl of flowers +here, there setting a book to rights; and West, rising too, +following her sombrely with his eyes, had never wanted her so much +in all his life.</p> +<p>Presently she returned to him; asked him to sit down again; and, +still standing herself, began speaking in a quiet kind voice which, +nevertheless, rang ominously in his ears from her first word.</p> +<p>"I remember," said Sharlee, "when I was a very little girl, not +more than twelve years old, I think, I first heard about +you—about Charles Gardiner West. You were hardly grown then, +but already people were talking about you. I don't remember now, of +course, just what they said, but it must have been something very +splendid, for I remember the sort of picture I got. I have always +liked for men to be very clean and high-minded—I think +because my father was that sort of man. I have put that above +intellect, and abilities, and what would be called attractions; and +so what they said about you made a great impression on me. You know +how very young girls are—how they like to have the figure of +a prince to spin their little romances around ... and so I took you +for mine. You were my knight without fear and without reproach ... +Sir Galahad. When I was sixteen, I used to pass you in the street +and wonder if you didn't hear my heart thumping. You never looked +at me; you hadn't any idea who I was. And that is a big and fine +thing, I think—to be the hero of somebody you don't even know +by name ... though of course not so big and fine as to be the hero +of somebody who knows you very well. And you were that to me, too. +When I grew up and came to know you, I still kept you on that +pedestal you never saw. I measured you by the picture I had carried +for so many years, and I was not disappointed. All that my little +girl's fancy had painted you, you seemed to be. I look back now +over the last few years of my life, and so much that I have liked +most—that has been dearest—has centred about you. Yes, +more than once I have been quite sure that I was in love with you. +You wonder that I can show you my heart this way? I couldn't of +course, except—well—that it is all past now. And that +is what seems sad to me.... There never was any prince; my knight +is dead; and Sir Galahad I got out of a book.... Don't you think +that that is pretty sad?"</p> +<p>West, who had been looking at her with a kind of frightened +fascination, hastily averted his eyes, for he saw that her own had +suddenly filled with tears. She turned away from him again; a +somewhat painful silence ensued; and presently she broke it, +speaking in a peculiarly gentle voice, and not looking at him.</p> +<p>"I'm glad that you told me—at last. I'll be glad to +remember that ... and I'm always your friend. But don't you think +that perhaps we'd better finish our talk some other time?"</p> +<p>"No," said West. "No."</p> +<p>He pulled himself together, struggling desperately to throw off +the curious benumbing inertia that was settling down upon him. "You +are doing me an injustice. A most tremendous injustice. You have +misunderstood everything from the beginning. I must +explain—"</p> +<p>"Don't you think that argument will only make it all so much +worse?"</p> +<p>"Nothing could possibly be worse for me than to have you think +of me and speak to me in this way."</p> +<p>Obediently she sat down, her face still and sad; and West, +pausing a moment to marshal his thoughts into convincing form, +launched forth upon his defense.</p> +<p>From the first he felt that he did not make a success of it; was +not doing himself justice. Recent events, in the legislature and +with reference to Meachy T. Bangor, had greatly weakened his +confidence in his arguments. Even to himself he seemed to have been +strangely "easy"; his exposition sounded labored and hollow in his +own ears. But worse than this was the bottomless despondency into +which the girl's brief autobiography had strangely cast him. A vast +mysterious depression had closed over him, which entirely robbed +him of his usual adroit felicity of speech. He brought his +explanation up to the publication of the unhappy article, and there +abruptly broke off.</p> +<p>A long silence followed his ending, and at last Sharlee +said:—</p> +<p>"I suppose a sudden change of heart in the middle of a fight is +always an unhappy thing. It always means a good deal of pain for +somebody. Still—sometimes they must come, and when they do, I +suppose the only thing to do is to meet them honestly—though, +personally, I think I should always trust my heart against my head. +But ... if you had only come to us that first morning and frankly +explained just why you deserted us—if you had told us all +this that you have just told me—"</p> +<p>"That is exactly what I wanted and intended to do," interrupted +West. "I kept silent out of regard for you."</p> +<p>"Out of regard for me?"</p> +<p>"When I started to tell you all about it, that night at Mrs. +Byrd's, it seemed to me that you had brooded over the matter until +you had gotten in an overwrought and—overstrung condition +about it. It seemed to me the considerate thing not to force the +unwelcome topic upon you, but rather to wait—"</p> +<p>"But had you the right to consider my imaginary feelings in such +a matter between yourself and ...? And besides, you did not quite +keep silent, you remember. You said something that led me to think +that you had discharged Mr. Surface for writing that article."</p> +<p>"I did not intend you to think anything of the kind. Anything in +the least like that. If my words were ambiguous, it was because, +seeing, as I say, that you were in an overstrung condition, I +thought it best to let the whole matter rest until you could look +at it calmly and rationally."</p> +<p>She made no reply.</p> +<p>"But why dwell on that part of it?" said West, beseechingly. "It +was simply a wretched misunderstanding all around. I'm sorrier than +I can tell you for my part in it. I have been greatly to +blame—I can see that now. Can't you let bygones be bygones? I +have come to you voluntarily and told you—"</p> +<p>"Yes, after six weeks. Why, I was the best friend he had, Mr. +West, and—Oh, me! How can I bear to remember what I said to +him!"</p> +<p>She turned her face hurriedly away from him. West, much moved, +struggled on.</p> +<p>"But don't you see—I didn't know it! I never dreamed of +such a thing. The moment I heard how matters stood—"</p> +<p>"Did it never occur to you in all this time that it might be +assumed that Mr. Surface, having written all the reformatory +articles, had written this one?"</p> +<p>"I did not think of that. I was short-sighted, I own. And of +course," he added more eagerly, "I supposed that he had told you +himself."</p> +<p>"You don't know him," said Sharlee.</p> +<p>A proud and beautiful look swept over her face. West rose, +looking wretchedly unhappy, and stood, irresolute, facing her.</p> +<p>"Can't you—forgive me?" he asked presently, in a painful +voice.</p> +<p>Sharlee hesitated.</p> +<p>"Don't you know I said that it would only make things worse to +talk about it to-night?" she said gently. "Everything you say seems +to put us further and further apart. Why, there is nothing for me +to forgive, Mr. West. There was a situation, and it imposed a +certain conduct on you; that is the whole story. I don't come into +it at all. It is all a matter between you and—your own-"</p> +<p>"You do forgive me then? But no—you talk to me just as +though you had learned all this from somebody else—as though +I had not come to you voluntarily and told you everything."</p> +<p>Sharlee did not like to look at his face, which she had always +seen before so confident and gay.</p> +<p>"No," said she sadly—"for I am still your friend."</p> +<p>"<i>Friend!</i>"</p> +<p>He echoed the word wildly, contemptuously. He was just on the +point of launching into a passionate speech, painting the +bitterness of friendship to one who must have true love or nothing, +and flinging his hand and his heart impetuously at her feet. But +looking at her still face, he checked himself, and just in time. +Shaken by passion as he was, he was yet enough himself to +understand that she would not listen to him. Why should he play the +spendthrift and the wanton with his love? Why give her, for +nothing, the sterile satisfaction of rejecting him, for her to +prize, as he knew girls did, as merely one more notch upon her +gun?</p> +<p>Leaving his tempestuous exclamation hanging in mid-air, West +stiffly shook Sharlee's hand and walked blindly out of the +room.</p> +<p>He went home, and to bed, like one moving in a horrible dream. +That night, and through all the next day, he felt utterly bereft +and wretched: something, say, as though flood and pestilence had +swept through his dear old town and carried off everything and +everybody but himself. He crawled alone in a smashed world. On the +second day following, he found himself able to light a cigarette; +and, glancing about him with faint pluckings of convalescent +interest, began to recognize some landmarks. On the third day, he +was frankly wondering whether a girl with such overstrained, not to +say hysterical ideals of conduct, would, after all, be a very +comfortable person to spend one's life with.</p> +<p>On the evening of this day, about half-past eight o'clock, he +emerged from his mother's house, light overcoat over his arm in +deference to his evening clothes, and started briskly down the +street. On the second block, as luck had it, he overtook Tommy +Semple walking the same way.</p> +<p>"Gardiner," said Semple, "when are you going to get over all +this uplift rot and come back to Semple and West?"</p> +<p>The question fell in so marvelously with West's mood of acute +discontent with all that his life had been for the past two years, +that it looked to him strangely like Providence. The easy ways of +commerce appeared vastly alluring to him; his income, to say truth, +had suffered sadly in the cause of the public; never had the snug +dollars drawn him so strongly. He gave a slow, curious laugh.</p> +<p>"Why, hang it, Tommy! I don't know but I'm ready to listen to +your siren spiel—now!"</p> +<p>In the darkness Semple's eyes gleamed. His receipts had never +been so good since West left him.</p> +<p>"That's the talk! I need you in my business, old boy. By the +bye, you can come in at bully advantage if you can move right away. +I'm going to come talk with you to-morrow."</p> +<p>"Right's the word," said West.</p> +<p>At the end of that block a large house stood in a lawn, half +hidden from the street by a curtain of trees. From its concealed +veranda came a ripple of faint, slow laughter, advertising the +presence of charming society. West halted.</p> +<p>"Here's a nice house, Tommy; I think I'll look in. See you +to-morrow."</p> +<p>Semple, walking on, glanced back to see what house it was. It +proved to be the brownstone palace leased for three years by old +Mr. Avery, formerly of Mauch Chunk but now of Ours.</p> +<p>Sharlee, too, retired from her painful interview with West with +a sense of irreparable loss. Her idol of so many years had, at a +word, toppled off into the dust, and not all the king's horses +could ever get him back again. It was like a death to her, and in +most ways worse than a death.</p> +<p>She lay awake a long time that night, thinking of the two men +who, for she could not say how long, had equally shared first place +in her thoughts. And gradually she read them both anew by the blaze +lit by one small incident.</p> +<p>She could not believe that West was deliberately false; she was +certain that he was not deliberately false. But she saw now, as by +a sudden searchlight flung upon him, that her one-time paladin had +a fatal weakness. He could not be honest with himself. He could +believe anything that he wanted to believe. He could hypnotize +himself at will by the enchanting music of his own imaginings. He +had pretty graces and he told himself they were large, fine +abilities; dim emotions and he thought they were ideals; vague +gropings of ambition, and when he had waved the hands of his fancy +over them, presto, they had become great dominating purposes. He +had fluttered fitfully from business to Blaines College; from the +college to the <i>Post</i>; before long he would flutter on from +the <i>Post</i> to something else—always falling short, +always secretly disappointed, everywhere a failure as a man, though +few might know it but himself. West's trouble, in fact, was that he +was not a man at all. He was weakest where a real man is strongest. +He was merely a chameleon taking his color from whatever he +happened to light upon; a handsome boat which could never get +anywhere because it had no rudder; an ornamental butterfly driving +aimlessly before the nearest breeze. He meant well, in a general +way, but his good intentions proved descending paving-stones +because he was constitutionally incapable of meaning anything very +hard.</p> +<p>West had had everything in the beginning except money; and he +had the faculty of making all of that he wanted. Queed—she +found that name still clinging to him in her thoughts—had had +nothing in the beginning except his fearless honesty. In everything +else that a man should he, he had seemed to her painfully +destitute. But because through everything he had held unflinchingly +to his honesty, he had been steadily climbing the heights. He had +passed West long ago, because their faces were set in opposite +directions. West had had the finest distinctions of honor carefully +instilled into him from his birth. Queed had deduced his, raw, from +his own unswerving honesty. And the first acid test of a real +situation showed that West's honor was only burnished and decorated +dross, while Queed's, which he had made himself, was as fine gold. +In that test, all superficial trappings were burned and shriveled +away; men were made to show their men's colors; and the "queer +little man with the queer little name" had instantly cast off his +resplendent superior because contact with his superior's dishonesty +was degrading to him. Yet in the same breath, he had allowed his +former chief to foist off that dishonesty upon his own clean +shoulders, and borne the detestable burden without demand for +sympathy or claim for gratitude. And this was the measure of how, +as Queed had climbed by his honesty, his whole nature had been +strengthened and refined. For if he had begun as the most +unconscious and merciless of egoists, who could sacrifice little +Fifi to his comfort without a tremor, he had ended with the supreme +act of purest altruism: the voluntary sacrifice of himself to save +a man whom in his heart he must despise.</p> +<p>But was that the supreme altruism? What had it cost him, after +all, but her friendship? Perhaps he did not regard that as so heavy +a price to pay.</p> +<p>Sharlee turned her face to the wall. In the darkness, she felt +the color rising at her throat and sweeping softly but resistlessly +upward. And she found herself feverishly clinging to all that her +little Doctor had said, and looked, in all their meetings which, +remembered now, gave her the right to think that their parting had +been hard for him, too.</p> +<p>Yet it was not upon their parting that her mind busied itself +most, but upon thoughts of their remeeting. The relations which she +had thought to exist between them had, it was clear, been violently +reversed. The one point now was for her to meet the topsy-turveyed +situation as swiftly, as generously, and as humbly as was +possible.</p> +<p>If she had been a man, she would have gone to him at once, +hunted him up this very night, and told him in the most groveling +language at her command, how infinitely sorry and ashamed she was. +Lying wide-eyed in her little white bed, she composed a number of +long speeches that she, as a man, would have made to him; +embarrassing speeches which he, as a man, or any other man that +ever lived, would never have endured for a moment. But she was not +a man, she was a girl; and girls were not allowed to go to men, and +frankly and honestly say what was in their hearts. She was not in +the least likely to meet him by accident; the telephone was +unthinkable. There remained only to write him a letter.</p> +<p>Yes, but what to say in the letter? There was the critical and +crucial question. No matter how artful and cajoling an apology she +wrote, she knew exactly how he would treat it. He would write a +civil, formal reply, assuring her that her apology was accepted, +and there the matter would stand forever. For she had put herself +terribly in the wrong; she had betrayed a damning weakness; it was +extremely probable that he would never care to resume friendship +with one who had proved herself so hatefully mistrustful. Then, +too, he was evidently very angry with her about the money. Only by +meeting for a long, frank talk could she ever hope to make things +right again; but not to save her life could she think of any form +of letter which would bring such a meeting to pass.</p> +<p>Pondering the question, she fell asleep. All next day, whenever +she had a minute and sometimes when she did not, she pondered it, +and the next, and the next. Her heart smote her for the tardiness +of her reparation; but stronger than this was her fear of striking +and missing fire. And at last an idea came to her; an idea so big +and beautiful that it first startled and dazzled her, and then set +her heart to singing; the perfect idea which would blot away the +whole miserable mess at one stroke. She sat down and wrote Mr. +Surface five lines, asking him to be kind enough to call upon her +in regard to the business matter about which he had written her a +few weeks before.</p> +<p>She wrote this note from her house, one night; she expected, of +course, that he would come there to see her; she had planned out +exactly where they were each to sit, and even large blocks of their +conversation. But the very next morning, before 10 o'clock, there +came a knock upon the Departmental door and he walked into her +office, looking more matter-of-fact and businesslike than she had +ever seen him.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Second Meeting between a Citizen and the Great Pleasure-Dog +Behemoth, involving Plans for Two New Homes.</i></p> +</div> +<p>And this time they did not have to go into the hall to talk.</p> +<p>No sooner had the opening door revealed the face of young Mr. +Surface than Mr. Dayne, the kind-faced Secretary, reached hastily +for his hat. In the same breath with his "Come in" and +"Good-morning," he was heard to mention to the Assistant Secretary +something about a little urgent business downtown.</p> +<p>Mr. Dayne acted so promptly that he met the visitor on the very +threshold of the office. The clergyman held out his hand with a +light in his manly gray eye.</p> +<p>"I'm sincerely glad to see you, Mr. Queed, to have the +chance—"</p> +<p>"Surface, please."</p> +<p>Mr. Dayne gave his hand an extra wring. "Mr. Surface, you did a +splendid thing. I'm glad of this chance to tell you so, and to beg +your forgiveness for having done you a grave injustice in my +thoughts."</p> +<p>The young man stared at him. "I have nothing to forgive you for, +Mr. Dayne. In fact, I have no idea what you are talking about."</p> +<p>But Mr. Dayne did not enlighten him; in fact he was already +walking briskly down the hall. Clearly the man had business that +would not brook an instant's delay.</p> +<p>Hat in hand, the young man turned, plainly puzzled, and found +himself looking at a white-faced little girl who gave back his look +with brave steadiness.</p> +<p>"Do you think you can forgive me, too?" she asked in a very +small voice.</p> +<p>He came three steps forward, into the middle of the room, and +there halted dead, staring at her with a look of searching +inquiry.</p> +<p>"I don't understand this," he said, in his controlled voice.</p> +<p>"What are you talking about?"</p> +<p>"Mr. West," said Sharlee, "has told me all about it. About the +reformatory. And I'm sorry."</p> +<p>There she stuck. Of all the speeches of prostrate yet somehow +noble self-flagellation which in the night seasons she had so +beautifully polished, not one single word could she now recall. Yet +she continued to meet his gaze, for so should apologies be given +though the skies fall; and she watched as one fascinated the blood +slowly ebb from his close-set face.</p> +<p>"Under the circumstances," he said abruptly, "it was hardly +a—a judicious thing to do. However, let us say no more about +it."</p> +<p>He turned away from her, obviously unsteadied for all his even +voice. And as he turned, his gaze, which had shifted only to get +away from hers, was suddenly arrested and became fixed.</p> +<p>In the corner of the room, beside the bookcase holding the works +of Conant, Willoughby, and Smathers, lay the great pleasure-dog +Behemoth, leonine head sunk upon two massive outstretched paws. But +Behemoth was not asleep; on the contrary he was overlooking the +proceedings in the office with an air of intelligent and paternal +interest.</p> +<p>Between Behemoth and young Henry Surface there passed a long +look. The young man walked slowly across the room to where the +creature lay, and, bending down, patted him on the head. He did it +with indescribable awkwardness. Certainly Behemoth must have +perceived what was so plain even to a human critic, that here was +the first dog this man had ever patted in his life. Yet, being a +pleasure-dog, he was wholly civil about it. In fact, after a +lidless scrutiny unembarrassed by any recollections of his last +meeting with this young man, he declared for friendship. Gravely he +lifted a behemothian paw, and gravely the young man shook it.</p> +<p>To Behemoth young Mr. Surface addressed the following +remarks:—</p> +<p>"West was simply deceived—hoodwinked by men infinitely +cleverer than he at that sort of thing. It was a manly +thing—his coming to you now and telling you; much harder than +never to—have made the mistake in the beginning. Of +course—it wipes the slate clean. It makes everything all +right now. You appreciate that."</p> +<p>Behemoth yawned.</p> +<p>The young man turned, and came a step or two forward, both face +and voice under complete control again.</p> +<p>"I received a note from you this morning," he began briskly, +"asking me to come in—"</p> +<p>The girl's voice interrupted him. Standing beside the little +typewriter-table, exactly where her caller had surprised her, she +had watched with a mortifying dumbness the second meeting between +the pleasure-dog and the little Doctor that was. But now pride +sprang to her aid, stinging her into speech. For it was an +unendurable thing that she should thus tamely surrender to him the +mastery of her situation, and suffer her own fault to be glossed +over so ingloriously.</p> +<p>"Won't you let me tell you," she began hurriedly, "how sorry I +am—how ashamed—that I misjudged—"</p> +<p>"No! No! I beg you to stop. There is not the smallest occasion +for anything of that sort—"</p> +<p>"Don't you see my dreadful position? I suspect you, misjudge +you—wrong you at every step—and all the time you are +doing a thing so fine—so generous and splendid—that I +am humiliated—to—"</p> +<p>Once again she saw that painful transformation in his face: a +difficult dull-red flood sweeping over it, only to recede +instantly, leaving him white from neck to brow.</p> +<p>"What is the use of talking in this way?" he asked peremptorily. +"What is the good of it, I say? The matter is over and done with. +Everything is all right—his telling you wipes it all from the +slate, just as I said. Don't you see that? Well, can't you dismiss +the whole incident from your mind and forget that it ever +happened?"</p> +<p>"I will try—if that is what you wish."</p> +<p>She turned away, utterly disappointed and disconcerted by his +summary disposal of the burning topic over which she had planned +such a long and satisfying discussion. He started to say something, +checked himself, and said something entirely different.</p> +<p>"I have received your note," he began directly, "asking me to +come in and see you about the matter of difference between the +estates. That is why I have called. I trust that this means that +you are going to be sensible and take your money."</p> +<p>"In a way—yes. I will tell you—what I have +thought."</p> +<p>"Well, sit down to tell me please. You look tired; not well at +all. Not in the least. Take this comfortable chair."</p> +<p>Obediently she sat down in Mr. Dayne's high-backed swivel-chair, +which, when she leaned back, let her neat-shod little feet swing +clear of the floor. The chair was a happy thought; it steadied her; +so did his unexampled solicitousness, which showed, she thought, +that her emotion had not escaped him.</p> +<p>"I have decided that I would take it," said she, "with +a—a—sort of condition."</p> +<p>Sitting in the chair placed for Mr. Dayne's callers, the young +man showed instant signs of disapprobation.</p> +<p>"No, no! You are big enough to accept your own without +conditions."</p> +<p>"Oh—you won't argue with me about that, will you? Perhaps +it is unreasonable, but I could never be satisfied to take +it—and spend it for myself. I could never have any pleasure +in it—never feel that it was really mine. So," she hurried +on, "I thought that it would be nice to take it—and give it +away."</p> +<p>"Give it away!" he echoed, astonished and displeased.</p> +<p>"Yes—give it to the State. I thought I should like to give +it to—establish a reformatory."</p> +<p>Their eyes met. Upon his candid face she could watch the subtler +meanings of her idea slowly sinking into and taking hold of his +consciousness.</p> +<p>"No—no!" came from him, explosively. "No! You must not +think of such a thing."</p> +<p>"Yes—I have quite made up my mind. When the idea came to +me it was like an inspiration. It seemed to me the perfect use to +make of this money. Don't you see?... And—"</p> +<p>"No, I don't see," he said sharply. "Why will you persist in +thinking that there is something peculiar and unclean about this +money?—some imagined taint upon your title to it? Don't you +understand that it is yours in precisely the same definite and +honest way that the money this office pays you—"</p> +<p>"Oh—surely it is all a question of feeling. And if I +feel—"</p> +<p>"It is a question of fact," said Mr. Surface. "Listen to me. +Suppose your father had put this money away for you somewhere, so +that you knew nothing about it, hidden it, say, in a secret drawer +somewhere about your house"—didn't he know exactly the sort +of places which fathers used to hide away money?—"and that +now, after all these years, you had suddenly found it, together +with a note from him saying that it was for you. You follow me +perfectly? Well? Would it ever occur to you to give that money to +the State—for a <i>reformatory</i>?"</p> +<p>"Oh—perhaps not. How can I tell? But that case +would—"</p> +<p>"Would be exactly like this one," he finished for her crisply. +"The sole difference is that it happens to be my father who hid the +money away instead of yours."</p> +<p>There was a silence.</p> +<p>"I am sorry," said she, constrainedly, "that you take +this—this view. I had hoped so much that you might agree with +me. Nevertheless, I think my mind is quite made up. I—"</p> +<p>"Then why on earth have you gone through the formality of +consulting me, only to tell me—"</p> +<p>"Oh—because I thought it would be so nice if you would +agree with me!"</p> +<p>"But I do not agree with you," he said, looking at her with +frowning steadiness. "I do not. Nobody on earth would agree with +you. Have you talked with your friends about this mad proposal? +Have you—"</p> +<p>"None of them but you. I did not care to."</p> +<p>The little speech affected him beyond all expectation; in full +flight as he was, it stopped him dead. He lost first the thread of +his argument; then his steadiness of eye and manner; and when he +spoke, it was to follow up, not his own thought, but her +implication, with those evidences of embarrassment which he could +never hide.</p> +<p>"So we are friends again," he stated, in rather a strained +voice.</p> +<p>"If you are willing—to take me back."</p> +<p>He sat silent, drumming a tattoo on his chair-arm with long, +strong fingers; and when he resumed his argument, it was with an +entire absence of his usual air of authority.</p> +<p>"On every score, you ought to keep your money—to make +yourself comfortable—to stop working—to bring yourself +more pleasures, trips, whatever you want—all exactly as your +father intended."</p> +<p>"Oh! don't argue with me, please! I asked you not. I must either +take it for that or not at all."</p> +<p>"It—it is not my part," he said reluctantly, "to dictate +what you shall do with your own. I cannot sympathize in the least +with your—your mad proposal. Not in the least. However, I +must assume that you know your own mind. If it is quite made +up—"</p> +<p>"Oh, it is! I have thought it all over so carefully—and +with so much pleasure."</p> +<p>He rose decisively. "Very well, I will go to my lawyers at +once—this morning. They will arrange it as you wish."</p> +<p>"Oh—will you? How can I thank you? And oh," she added +hastily, "there was—another point that I—I wished to +speak to you about."</p> +<p>He gazed down at her, looking so small and sorrowful-eyed in her +great chair, and all at once his knees ran to water, and the +terrible fear clutched at him that his manhood would not last him +out of the room. This was the reason, perhaps, that his voice was +the little Doctor's at its brusquest as he said:—</p> +<p>"Well? What is it?"</p> +<p>"The question," she said nervously, "of a—a name for this +reformatory that I want to found. I have thought a great deal about +that. It is a—large part of my idea. And I have decided that +my reformatory shall be called—that is, that I should like to +call it—the Henry G. Surface Home."</p> +<p>He stared at her through a flash like a man stupefied; and then, +wheeling abruptly, walked away from her to the windows which +overlooked the park. For some time he stood there, back +determinedly toward her, staring with great fixity at nothing. But +when he returned to her, she had never seen his face so stern.</p> +<p>"You must be mad to suggest such a thing. Mad! Of course I shall +not allow you to do it. I shall not give you the money for any such +purpose."</p> +<p>"But if it is mine, as you wrote?" said Sharlee, looking up at +him from the back of her big chair.</p> +<p>Her point manifestly was unanswerable. With characteristic +swiftness, he abandoned it, and fell back to far stronger +ground.</p> +<p>"Yes, the money is yours," he said stormily. "But that is all. +My father's name is mine."</p> +<p>That silenced her, for the moment at least, and he swept rapidly +on.</p> +<p>"I do not in the least approve of your giving your money to +establish a foundation at all. That, however, is a matter with +which, unfortunately, I have nothing to do. But with my father's +name I have everything to do. I shall not permit you to—"</p> +<p>"Surely—oh, surely, you will not refuse me so small a +thing which would give me so much happiness."</p> +<p>"Happiness?" He flung the word back at her impatiently, but his +intention of demolishing it was suddenly checked by a flashing +remembrance of Fifi's definition of it. "Will you kindly explain +how you would get happiness from that?"</p> +<p>"Oh—if you don't see, I am afraid I—could never +explain—"</p> +<p>"It is a display of just the same sort of unthinking Quixotism +which has led you hitherto to refuse to accept your own money. What +you propose is utterly irrational in every way. Can you deny it? +Can you defend your proposal by any reasonable argument? I cannot +imagine how so—so mad an idea ever came into your mind."</p> +<p>She sat still, her fingers playing with the frayed edges of Mr. +Dayne's blotting-pad, and allowed the silence to enfold them once +more.</p> +<p>"Your foundation," he went on, with still further loss of motive +power, "would—gain nothing by bearing the name of my father. +He was not worthy.... No one knows that better than you. Will you +tell me what impulse put it into your mind to—to do +this?"</p> +<p>"I—had many reasons," said she, speaking with some +difficulty. "I will tell you one. My father loved him once. I know +he would like me to do something—to make the name honorable +again."</p> +<p>"That," he said, in a hard voice, "is beyond your power."</p> +<p>She showed no disposition to contradict him, or even to maintain +the conversation. Presently he went on:—</p> +<p>"I cannot let you injure your foundation by—branding it +with his notoriety, in an impulsive and—and fruitless +generosity. For it would be fruitless. You, of all people, must +understand that the burden on the other side is—impossibly +heavy. You know that, don't you?"</p> +<p>She raised her head and looked at him.</p> +<p>Again, her pride had been plucking at her heartstrings, burning +her with the remembrance that he, when he gave her everything that +a man could give, had done it in a manner perfect and without flaw. +And now she, with her infinitely smaller offering, sat tongue-tied +and ineffectual, unable to give with a show of the purple, too +poor-spirited even to yield him the truth for his truth which alone +made the gift worth the offering.</p> +<p>Her blood, her spirit, and all her inheritance rallied at the +call of her pride. She looked at him, and made her gaze be steady: +though this seemed to her the hardest thing she had ever done in +her life.</p> +<p>"I must not let you think that I wanted to do this only for your +father's sake. That would not be honest. Part of my pleasure in +planning it—most of it, perhaps—was because I—I +should so much like to do something for your father's son."</p> +<p>She rose, trying to give the movement a casual air, and went +over to her little desk, pretending to busy herself straightening +out the litter of papers upon it. From this safe distance, her back +toward him, she forced herself to add:—</p> +<p>"This reformatory will take the place of the one you—would +have won for us. Don't you see? Half-my happiness in giving it is +gone, unless you will lend me the name."</p> +<p>Behind her the silence was impenetrable.</p> +<p>She stood at her desk, methodically sorting papers which she did +not see, and wildly guessing at the meaning of that look of +turbulent consciousness which she had seen break startled into his +eyes. More even than in their last meeting, she had found that the +sight of his face, wonderfully changed yet even more wonderfully +the same, deeply affected her to-day. Its new sadness and premature +age moved her strangely; with a peculiar stab of compassion and +pain she had seen for the first time the gray in the nondescript +hair about his temples. For his face, she had seen that the smooth +sheath of satisfied self-absorption, which had once overlain it +like the hard veneer on a table-top, had been scorched away as in a +baptism by fire; from which all that was best in it had come out at +once strengthened and chastened. And she thought that the shining +quality of honesty in his face must be such as to strike strangers +on the street.</p> +<p>And now, behind her on the office floor, she heard his +footsteps, and in one breath was suddenly cold with the fear that +her hour had come, and hot with the fear that it had not.</p> +<p>Engrossed with her papers, she moved so as to keep her back +toward him; but he, with a directness which would not flinch even +in this untried emergency, deliberately intruded himself between +her and the table; and so once more they stood face to face.</p> +<p>"I don't understand you," he began, his manner at its quietest. +"Why do you want to do this for me?"</p> +<p>At this close range, she glanced once at him and instantly +looked away. His face was as white as paper; and when she saw that +her heart first stopped beating, and then pounded off in a wild +frightened pæan.</p> +<p>"I—cannot tell you—I don't know—exactly."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>She hardly recognized his voice; instinctively she began backing +away.</p> +<p>"I don't think I—can explain. You—rather terrify me +this morning."</p> +<p>"Are you in love with ME?" he demanded in a terrible voice, +beginning at the wrong end, as he would be sure to do.</p> +<p>Finger at her lip, her blue eyes, bright with unshed tears, +resting upon his in a gaze as direct as a child's, Sharlee nodded +her head up and down.</p> +<p>And that was all the hint required by clever Mr. Surface, the +famous social scientist. He advanced somehow, and took her in his +arms. On the whole, it was rather surprising how satisfactorily he +did it, considering that she was the first woman he had ever +touched in all his days.</p> +<p>So they stood through a time that might have been a minute and +might have been an age, since all of them that mattered had soared +away to the sunlit spaces where no time is. After awhile, driven by +a strange fierce desire to see her face in the light of this new +glory, he made a gentle effort to hold her off from him, but she +clung to him, crying, "No, no! I don't want you to see me yet."</p> +<p>After another interval of uncertain length, she said:—</p> +<p>"All along my heart has cried out that you couldn't have done +that, and hurt me so. <i>You couldn't</i>. I will never doubt my +heart again. And you were so fine—so fine—to forgive me +so easily."</p> +<p>In the midst of his dizzying exaltation, he marveled at the ease +with which she spoke her inmost feeling; he, the great apostle of +reason and self-mastery, was much slower in recovering lost voice +and control. It was some time before he would trust himself to +speak, and even then the voice that he used was not recognizable as +his.</p> +<p>"So you are willing to do as much for my father's son as +to—to—take his name for your own."</p> +<p>"No, this is something that I am doing for myself. Your father +was not perfect, but he was the only father that ever had a son +whose name I would take for mine."</p> +<p>A silence.</p> +<p>"We can keep my father's house," he said, in time, +"for—for—us to live in. You must give up the office. +And I will find light remunerative work, which will leave at least +part of my time free for my book."</p> +<p>She gave a little laugh that was half a sob. "Perhaps—you +could persuade that wealthy old lady—to get out a second +edition of her <i>thesaurus!</i>"</p> +<p>"I wish I could, though!"</p> +<p>"You talk just like my little Doctor," she +gasped—"my—own little Doctor.... I've got a little +surprise for you—about remunerative work," she went on, "only +I can't tell you now, because it's a secret. Promise that you won't +make me tell you."</p> +<p>He promised.</p> +<p>Suddenly, without knowing why, she began to cry, her cheek +against his breast. "You've had a sad life, little Doctor—a +sad life. But I am going to make it all up to you—if you will +show me the way."</p> +<p>Presently she became aware that her telephone was ringing, and +ringing as though it had been at it for some time.</p> +<p>"Oh bother! They won't let us have even a little minute together +after all these years. I suppose you must let me go—"</p> +<p>She turned from the desk with the most beautiful smile he had +ever seen upon a face.</p> +<p>"It's for you!"</p> +<p>"For me?" he echoed like a man in a dream. "That is—very +strange."</p> +<p>Strange, indeed! Outside, the dull world was wagging on as +before, unaware that there had taken place in this enchanted room +the most momentous event in history.</p> +<p>He took the receiver from her with a left hand which trembled, +and with his untrained right somehow caught and imprisoned both of +hers. "Stand right by me," he begged hurriedly.</p> +<p>Now he hoisted the receiver in the general direction of his ear, +and said in what he doubtless thought was quite a businesslike +manner: "Well?"</p> +<p>"Mr. Queed? This is Mr. Hickok," said the incisive voice over +the wire. "Well, what in the mischief are you doing up there?"</p> +<p>"I'm—I'm—transacting some important +business—with the Department," said Mr. Surface, and gave +Sharlee's hands a desperate squeeze. "But my—"</p> +<p>"Well, we're transacting some important business down here. +Never should have found you but for Mr. Dayne's happening along. +Did you know that West had resigned?"</p> +<p>"No, has he? But I started—"</p> +<p>"Peace to his ashes. De mortuis nil nisi bonum. The directors +are meeting now to elect his successor. Only one name has been +mentioned. There's only one editor we'll hear of for the paper. +Won't you come back to us, my boy?"</p> +<p>The young man cleared his throat. "Come? I'd—think it the +greatest honor—there's nothing I'd rather have. You are all +too—too kind to me—I can't tell +you—but—"</p> +<p>"Oh, no buts! But us no buts now! I'll go tell them—"</p> +<p>"No—wait," called the young man, hastily. "If I come, I +don't come as Queed, you know. My name is Henry G. Surface. That +may make a difference—"</p> +<p>"Come as Beelzebub!" said the old man, testily. "We've had +enough of hiring a <i>name</i> for the <i>Post</i>. This time we're +after a man, and by the Lord, we've got one!"</p> +<p>Henry Surface turned away from the telephone, struggling with +less than his usual success to show an unmoved face.</p> +<p>"You—know?"</p> +<p>She nodded: in her blue-spar eyes, there was the look of a +winged victory. "That was the little secret—don't you think +it was a nice one? It is your magnificent boast come true.... And +you don't even say 'I told you so'!"</p> +<p>He looked past her out into the park. Over the budding trees, +already bursting and spreading their fans of green, far off over +the jagged stretch of roofs, his gaze sought the battered gray +<i>Post</i> building and the row of windows behind which he had so +often sat and worked. A mist came before his eyes; the trees +curveted and swam; and his visible world swung upside down and went +out in a singing and spark-shot blackness.</p> +<p>She came to his side again: in silence slipped her hand into +his; and following both his look and his thought, she felt her own +eyes smart with a sudden bright dimness.</p> +<p>"This is the best city in the world," said Henry Surface. "The +kindest people—the <i>kindest people</i>—"</p> +<p>"Yes, little Doctor."</p> +<p>He turned abruptly and caught her to him again; and now, hearing +even above the hammering of his own blood the wild fluttering of +her heart against his, his tongue unlocked and he began to speak +his heart. It was not speech as he had always known speech. In all +his wonderful array of terminology there were no words fitted to +this undreamed need; he had to discover them somehow, by main +strength make them up for himself; and they came out stammering, +hard-wrung, bearing new upon their rough faces the mint-mark of his +own heart. Perhaps she did not prize them any the less on that +account.</p> +<p>"I'm glad that you love me that way—Henry. I must call you +Henry now—mustn't I, Henry?"</p> +<p>"Do you know," she said, after a time, "I am—<i>almost</i> +weakening about giving our money for a Home. Somehow, I'd so like +for you to have it, so that—"</p> +<p>She felt a little shiver run through him.</p> +<p>"No, no! I could not bear to touch it. We shall be far +happier—"</p> +<p>"You could stop work, buy yourself comforts, pleasures, trips. +It is a mad thing," she teased, "to give away money.... Oh, little +Doctor—I can't breathe if you hold me—so tight."</p> +<p>"About the name," he said presently, "I—dislike to oppose +you, but I cannot—I cannot—"</p> +<p>"Well, I've decided to change it, Henry, in deference to your +wishes."</p> +<p>"I am extremely glad. I myself know a name—"</p> +<p>"Instead of calling it the Henry G. Surface Home—"</p> +<p>Suddenly she drew away from him, leaving behind both her hands +for a keepsake, and raised to him a look so luminous and radiant +that he felt himself awed before it, like one who with impious feet +has blundered upon holy ground.</p> +<p>"I am going to call it the Henry G. Surface <i>Junior</i> Home. +Do you know any name for a Home so pretty as that?"</p> +<p>"No, no, I—can't let you—"</p> +<p>But she cried him down passionately, saying: "Yes, that is +<i>our</i> name now, and we are going to make it honorable."</p> +<p>From his place beside the sociological bookcase—perhaps +faunal naturalists can tell us why—the great pleasure-dog +Behemoth, whose presence they had both forgotten, raised his +leonine head and gave a sharp, joyous bark.</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14303 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14303-h/images/001.jpg b/14303-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f148804 --- /dev/null +++ b/14303-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/14303-h/images/002.png b/14303-h/images/002.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae1a691 --- /dev/null +++ b/14303-h/images/002.png |
