mentioned to her. Nicolovius,
however, appeared absolutely unconcerned by the boarders' silent rebuke.
He ate on, rapidly but abstemiously, and finished before Mr. Bylash, who
had had twenty minutes' start of him.

The last boarder rising drew shut the folding-doors into the parlor,
while the ladies of the house remained to superintend and assist in
clearing off the supper things. The last boarder this time was Mr.
Bylash, who tried without success to catch Miss Weyland's eye as he slid
to the doors. He hung around in the parlor waiting for her till 8.30, at
which time, having neither seen nor heard sign of her, he took Miss
Miller out to the moving-picture shows. In the dining-room, when Emma
had trayed out the last of the things, the ladies put away the unused
silver, watered the geranium, set back some of the chairs, folded up the
white cloth, placing it in the sideboard drawer, spread the pretty
Turkey-red one in its stead, set the reading lamp upon it; and just then
the clock struck eight.

"Now then," said Sharlee.

So the three sat down and held a council of war as to how little Doctor
Queed, the young man who wouldn't pay his board, was to be brought into
personal contact with Charlotte Lee Weyland, the grim and resolute
collector. Various stratagems were proposed, amid much merriment. But
the collector herself adhered to her original idea of a masterly waiting
game.

"Only trust me," said she. "He can't spend the rest of his life shut up
in that room in a state of dreadful siege. Hunger or thirst will force
him out; he'll want to buy some of those apples, or to mail a letter--"

Fifi, who sat on the arm of Sharlee's chair, laughed and coughed. "He
never writes any. And he never has gotten but one, and that came
to-night."

"Fifi, did you take your syrup before supper? Well, go and take it this
minute."

"Mother, it doesn't do any good."

"The doctor gave it to you, my child, and it's going to make you better
soon."

Sharlee followed Fifi out with troubled eyes. However, Mrs. Paynter at
once drew her back to the matter in hand.

"Sharlee, do you know what would be the very way to settle this little
difficulty? To write him a formal, businesslike letter. We'll--"

"No, I've thought of that, Aunt Jennie, and I don't believe it's the
way. A letter couldn't get to the bottom of the matter. You see, we want
to find out something about this man, and why he isn't paying, and
whether there is reason to t