behaving."
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.
"Here," said he, "is his first letter--the one that brought me from New
York."
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.
"Be careful! Your feather thing is sticking my eye."
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:
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.
"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."
Sharlee required no urging. She read:
Make friends; mingle with people, and learn to like them. This is
the earnest injunction of
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