Queed fared back to his dining-room, as
was now becoming his melancholy habit. And to-night the necessity was
exceptionally trying, for he found that the intrusive daughter of the
landlady had yet once again spread her mathematics there before him.
Nor could Fifi this time claim misunderstanding and accident. She fully
expected the coming of Mr. Queed, and had been nervously awaiting it.
The state of mind thus induced was not in the least favorable to doing
algebra successfully or pleasurably. No amount of bodily comfort could
compensate Fifi for having to have it. But her mother had ruled the
situation to-night with a strong hand and a flat foot. The bedroom was
_entirely too cold_ for Fifi. She must, positively _must_, go down to
the warm and comfortable dining-room,--do you hear me, Fifi? As for Mr.
Queed--well, if he made himself objectionable, Sharlee would simply have
to give him another good talking to.
Yet Fifi involuntarily cowered as she looked up and murmured: "Oh--good
evening!"
Mr. Queed bowed. In the way of conveying displeasure, he had in all
probability the most expressive face in America.
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