ll alone in the world, without a friend. And you died and there was not
one single person to cry and miss you--would you think that was a--a
successful life?"

"Oh, I suppose so! Yes, yes!"

"But don't--don't you want to have people like you and be your friend?"

"My dear young lady, it is not a question of what I want. I was not put
here in the world to frivol through a life of gross pleasure. I have
serious work to do in the service of humankind, and I can do it only by
rigid concentration and ruthless elimination of the unessential. Surely
you can grasp that?"

"But--if you died to-morrow," said Fifi, fearfully fascinated by this
aspect of the young man's majestic isolation,--"don't you know of
anybody who'd be really and truly sorry?"

"Really, I've never thought of it, but doubtless my two friends in New
York would be sorry after their fashion. They, I believe, are all."

"No they aren't! There's somebody else!"

Queed supposed she was going to say God, but he dutifully inquired,
"Who?"

Fifi looked decidedly disappointed. "I thought you knew," she said,
gazing at him with childlike directness. "Me."

Queed's eyes fell. There was a brief silence. The young man became aware
of a curious sensation in his chest which he did not understand in the
least, but which he was not prepared to describe as objectionable. To
pass over it, and to bring the conversation to an immediate close, he
rapped the open book austerely with his pencil.

"We must proceed with the difficulties. Let me hear you try the passage.
Come! _Quam ob rem, Quirites_...."

The nine o'clock difficulties proceeded with, and duly cleared up, Fifi
did not stay for the second, or 9.45, interlude. She closed _M.T.
Ciceronis Orationes Selectae_, gathered together her other paraphernalia,
and then she said suddenly:--

"I may leave school next week, Mr. Queed. I--don't think I'm going to
graduate."

He looked up, surprised and displeased. "Why on earth do you think
that?"

"Well, you see, they don't think I'm strong enough to keep up the work
right now. The Doctor was here to-day, and that's what he says. It's
silly, I think--I know I am."

Queed was playing the devil's tattoo with his pencil, scowling somewhat
nervously. "Did you want to graduate particularly?"

A look of exquisite wistfulness swept the child's face, and was gone.
"Yes, I wanted to--lots. But I won't mind so much after I've had time
to get used to it. You know the way peop