you see. I didn't mean to come to-night--truly, Mr. Queed--I know I
bother you _so_--only Mother made me."
"Your mother made you? Why?"
"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...."
Queed glanced impatiently at the girl's delicate face. A frown deepened
on his brow; he cleared his throat with annoyance.
"Oh, I am willing," he said testily, "for you to bring your work here
whenever it is very cold upstairs."
"Oh, how good you are, Mr. Queed!" cried Fifi, staggered by his
nobility. "But of course I can't think of bothering--"
"I should not have asked you," he interrupted her, irritably, "if I had
not been willing for you to come."
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.
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.
"Mr. Queed--I--wonder if you won't let me get something to put on your
forehead? That bruise is so dreadful--"
"Oh, no! No! It's of no consequence whatever."
"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--"
"My forehead does very well as it is, I assure you."
Fifi turned reluctantly. "Indeed something on it would make it get well
so _much_ faster. I wish you would--"
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.
"If you are certain that its healing will be hastened--"
"Positive!" cried Fifi happily, and vanished without more speech.
|