Rummaging in his bottom
bureau drawer, he produced a placard, like a narrow little sign-board,
and tucking it under his arm, went on downstairs.
The precaution was by no means superfluous. Disgustingly enough the
landlady's daughter was once more in his dining-room before him, the
paraphernalia of her algebra spread over half the Turkey-red cloth. Fifi
looked up, plainly terrified at his entrance and his forbidding
expression. It was her second dreadful blunder, poor luckless little
wight! She had faithfully waited a whole half-hour, and Mr. Queed had
shown no signs of coming down. Never had he waited so long as this when
he meant to claim the dining-room. Mrs. Paynter's room, nominally heated
by a flume from the Latrobe heater in the parlor, was noticeably coolish
on a wintry night. Besides, there was no table in it, and everybody
knows that algebra is hard enough under the most favorable conditions,
let alone having to do it on your knee. It seemed absolutely safe; Fifi
had yielded to the summons of the familiar comforts; and now--
"Oh--how do you do?" she was saying in a frightened voice.
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