"There is," he began without preliminaries, "a girl at the house where I
board, who has been confined to her bed with sickness for some weeks. It
appears that she has grown thin and weak, so that they will not permit
her to graduate at her school. This involves a considerable
disappointment to her."
"You are speaking of Fifi," said Sharlee, gently.
"That is the girl's name, if it is of any interest to you--"
"You know she is my first cousin."
"Possibly so," he replied, as though to say that no one had the smallest
right to hold him responsible for that. "In this connection, a small
point has arisen upon which advice is required, the advice of a woman.
You happen to be the only other girl I know. This," said Queed, "is why
I have called."
Sharlee felt flattered. "You are most welcome to my advice, Mr. Queed."
He frowned at her through glasses that looked as big and as round as
butter-saucers, with an expression in which impatience contended with
faint embarrassment.
"As her fellow-lodger," he resumed, precisely, "I have been in the habit
of assisting this girl with her studies and have thus come to take an
interest in her--a small interest.
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