agnanimity. "Look here. You have been civil to me--I
will write that article for you Myself."

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. Colonel Cowles,
on the other hand, had never even heard of Willoughby and Smathers; but
when he wrote an article people read it, and the humblest understood
exactly what he was driving at.

"Why--it's very nice of you to offer to help us, but I couldn't think of
imposing on your time--"

"Naturally not," said he, decisively; "but it happens that we have
decided to allow a breathing-space in my series on taxation, that the
public may digest what I have already written. I am therefore free to
discuss other topics for a few days. For to-morrow's issue, I am
analyzing certain little understood industrial problems in Bavaria. On
the following day--"

"It's awfully good of you to think of it," said Sharlee, embarrassed by
his grave gaze. "I can't tell you how I appreciate it. But--but--you
see, there's a lot of special detail that applies to this particular
case alone--oh, a great lot of it--little facts connected with peculiar
State conditions and--and the history of our department, you know--and I
have talked it over so thoroughly with the Colonel--"

"Here is Colonel Cowles now."

She breathed a sigh. Colonel Cowles, entering with the breath of winter
upon him, greeted her affectionately. Queed, rather relieved that his
too hasty offer had not been accepted, noted with vexation that his
conversation with the agent had cost him eighteen minutes of time.
Vigorously he readdressed himself to the currency problems of the
Bavarians; the girl's good-night, as applied to him, fell upon ears
deafer than any post.

Sharlee walked home through the tingling twilight; fourteen blocks, and
she did them four times a day. It was a still evening, clear as a bell
and very cold; already stars were pushing through the dim velvet round;
all the world lay white with a light hard snow, crusted and sparkling
under the street lights. Her private fear about the whole matter was
that Queed Senior was a person of a criminal mode of life, who,
discovering the need of a young helper, was somehow preparing to sound
an