ling.

"No, of course. You wouldn't." Dickie spoke slowly again, looking at the
rug. "I went East--"

"But--Hilliard?"

He looked up at her and flashed a queer, pained sort of smile. "I am
coming to him, Sheila. I've got to tell you _some_ about myself before I
get around to him or else you wouldn't savvy--"

"Oh." She couldn't meet the look that went with the queer smile, for it
was even queerer and more pained, and was, somehow, too old a look for
Dickie. So she said, "Oh," again, childishly, and waited, staring at
her fingers.

"I went to New York because I thought I'd find you there, Sheila. Pap's
hotel was on fire."

"Did you really burn it down, Dickie?"

He started violently. "_I_ burned it down? Good Lord! No. What made you
think such a thing?"

"Never mind. Your father thought so."

Dickie's face flushed. "I suppose he would." He thought it over, then
shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't. I don't know how it started ... I went
to New York and to that place you used to live in--the garret. I had the
address from the man who took Pap there."

"The studio? _Our_ studio?--_You_ there, Dickie?"

"Yes, ma'am. I lived there. I thought, at first, you might
come ... Well"--Dickie hurried as though he wanted to pass quickly over
this necessary history of his own experience--"I got a job at a hotel."
He smiled faintly. "I was a waiter. One night I went to look at a fire.
It was a big fire. I was trying to think out what it was like--you know
the way I always did. It used to drive Pap loco--I must have been talking
to myself. Anyway, there was a fellow standing near me with a notebook
and a pencil and he spoke up suddenly--kind of sharp, and said: 'Say that
again, will you?'--He was a newspaper reporter, Sheila ... That's how I
got into the job. But I'm only telling you because--"

Sheila hit the rung of her chair with an impatient foot. "Oh, Dickie! How
silly you are! As if I weren't _dying_ to hear all about it. How did you
get 'into the job'? What job?"

"Reporting," said Dickie. He was troubled by this urgency of hers. He
began to stammer a little. "Of course, the--the fellow helped me a lot.
He got me on the staff. He went round with me. He--he took down what I
said and later he--he kind of edited my copy before I handed it in.
He--he was almighty good to me. And I--I worked awfully hard. Like Hell.
Night classes when I wasn't on night duty, and books. Then, Sheila, I
began to get kind of crazy over word