Undoubtedly it was
XVIII
ALTRUISM
There was nothing enormous about Fifi's vocabulary, but she well knew
what to do in a case like this. Behind her stood a battered little
walnut bookcase, containing the Paynter library. After a safe interval
of absorption in her sums, she pushed back her chair with the most
respectful quietude and pulled out a tall volume. The pages of it she
turned with blank studious face but considerable inner expectancy:
Af--Ai--Al--Alf....
A giggle shattered the academic calm, and Fifi, in horror, realized that
she was the author of it. She looked up quickly, and her worst fears
were realized. Mr. Queed was staring at her, as one scarcely able to
credit his own senses, icy rebuke piercing through and overflowing his
great round spectacles.
"I beg your pardon!--Mr. Queed. It--it slipped out, really--"
But the young man thought that the time had come when this question of
noise in his dining-room must be settled once and for all.
"Indeed? Be kind enough to explain the occasion of it."
"Why," said Fifi, too truthful to prevaricate and completely cowed,
"it--it was only the meaning of a word here.
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