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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 Post next morning to get himself straightened out and reestablish Bartlett's familiar quotations.
"I must be frank with you, professor. I saw whom that envelope was addressed to just now." "Nor need we quarrel about that." But Queed's steady gaze upon him presently grew unbearable, and at last the old man raised his head. "Well? Whom was it addressed to?" Queed felt disturbingly sorry for him, and, in the same thought, admired his iron control.
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 Post's treacherous editorial. Of course, West had long since made that right as he had promised, as he would have done with no promising.
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.
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. 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.
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."
"I have gotten very much interested in his story," said Queed, which was certainly true enough. "Where do people think that he is now?" "Oh, in the West somewhere, living like a fat hog off Miss Weyland's money." 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.
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." 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.
"I don't know what to make of it," said Mrs. Paynter sotto voce. "He's usually so regular." 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. "He's probably fallen asleep over his book," murmured Sharlee. "I feel certain it's that kind of book." But Mrs.
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.
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