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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Taking the Little Doctor Down a Peg or Two": as performed for the First and Only Time by Sharlee Weyland. 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.
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.
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: "At church this morning I saw Colonel Cowles. He told me about you.
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.
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.
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. "Now then," said Sharlee.
Dayne very easily, and gazing at Sharlee sharply through his spectacles, said: "I should like to speak to you in private a moment." "Certainly," said Sharlee. "I'll step into the hall," said kind-faced Mr. Dayne. "No, no. Indeed you mustn't. We will." Sharlee faced the young man in the sunlit hail with sympathetic expectancy and some curiosity in her eyes.
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?" 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.
"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." "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 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.
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