as small and inoffensive as she
could.

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.

Fifi dallied with her algebra, hoping and praying that she would not
_have_ 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.

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:

SILENCE

Arch-type and model of courteous warning!

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
_Silence_ sign gazing at her like a pasteboard Gorgon!

Fifi became more than ever interested in Mr. Queed. An intense and
s