at his long cigar.

"Ah, well! Forgive the saddening reminiscences of an old man--not a
common weakness with me, I assure you. May I say, Mr. Queed, how much
your intellect, your culture, your admirable--ah--poise--amazing they
seem to me in so young a man--have appealed to me among a population of
Brookes, Bylashes, and Klinkers? You are the first man in many a day
that has inspired me with an impulse toward friendship and confidence.
It would be a real kindness if you'd come in sometimes of an evening."

At the word "friendship" the young man flinched uncontrollably. Was the
whole diabolical world in league to spring out and make friends with
him?

"Unfortunately," he said, with his iciest bow, "my time is entirely
engrossed by my work."

But as his eye went round the pretty, dim-lit room, he could not help
contrasting it with the bleak Scriptorium above, and he added with a
change of tone and a sigh:--

"You appear wonderfully comfortable here."

Nicolovius shrugged. "So-so," he said indifferently. "However, I shall
make a move before long."

"Indeed?"

"I want more space and independence, more quiet--surcease from meeting
fellow-boarders at every step. I plan to move into an apartment, or
perhaps a modest little house, if I can manage it. For I am not rich,
unhappily, though I believe the boarders think I am, because I make Emma
a present of a dollar each year at the anniversary of the birth of our
Lord."

Queed ignored his little pleasantry. He was struck with the fact that
Nicolovius had described exactly the sort of living arrangement that he
himself most earnestly desired.

"I should have made the move last year," continued Nicolovius, pulling
at his auburn mustaches, "except that--well, I am more sensitive to my
loneliness as I grow older, and the fact was that I lacked a congenial
companion to share a pleasanter home with."

The eyes of the two men met, and they moved away from each other as by
common consent. Apparently the same thought popped simultaneously into
both their minds. Queed dallied with his thought, frankly and with the
purest unaltruism.

Though this was the first time he had ever been in the old professor's
pretty room, it was the third or fourth time he had been invited there.
Nothing could be clearer than that Nicolovius liked him
enormously,--where on earth did he get his fatal gift for attracting
people?--nothing than that he was exactly the sort of congenial
companion the