m Klinker
fell, they irrepressibly shot forth gleams. At the Major's right sat his
wife, a pale, depressed, nervous woman, as anybody who had lived thirty
years with the gallant officer her husband had a right to be. She was
silent, but the Major talked a great deal, not particularly well. Much
the same may be said of Mr. Bylash and Miss Miller. Across the table
from Mrs. Brooke stood an empty chair. It belonged to the little
Doctor, Mr. Queed. Across the table from Sharlee stood another. This one
belonged to the old professor, Nicolovius. When the meal was well along,
Nicolovius came in, bowed around the table in his usual formal way, and
silently took his place. While Sharlee liked everybody in the
boarding-house, including Miss Miller, Professor Nicolovius was the only
one of them that she considered at all interesting. This was because of
his strongly-cut face, like the grand-ducal villain in a
ten-twenty-thirty melodrama, and his habit of saying savage things in a
soft, purring voice. He was rude to everybody, and particularly rude, so
Sharlee thought, to her. As for the little Doctor, he did not come in at
all. Half-way through supper, Sharlee looked at her aunt and gave a
meaning glance at the empty seat.

"I don't know what to make of it," said Mrs. Paynter _sotto voce_. "He's
usually so regular."

To the third floor she dispatched the colored girl Emma, to knock upon
Mr. Queed's door. Presently Emma returned with the report that she had
knocked, but could obtain no answer.

"He's probably fallen asleep over his book," murmured Sharlee. "I feel
certain it's that kind of book."

But Mrs. Paynter said that he rarely slept, even at night.

"... Right on my own front porch, mind you!" Major Brooke was
declaiming. "And, gentlemen, I shook my finger in his face and said,
'Sir, I never yet met a Republican who was not a rogue!' Yes, sir, that
is just what I told him--"

"I'm afraid," said Nicolovius, smoothly,--it was the only word he
uttered during the meal,--"your remark harrows Miss Weyland with
reminders of the late Mr. Surface."

The Major stopped short, and a silence fell over the table. It was
promptly broken by Mrs. Paynter, who invited Mrs. Brooke to have a
second cup of coffee. Sharlee looked at her plate and said nothing.
Everybody thought that the old professor's remark was in bad taste, for
it was generally known that Henry G. Surface was one subject that even
Miss Weyland's intimate friends never