or nobler work? At Blames
College of blessed memory, the best I could hope for was to reach and
influence a handful of lumpish boys. How tremendously broader is the
opportunity on the _Post!_ Think of having a following of a hundred
thousand readers a day! (You allow three or four readers to a copy, you
know.) Think of talking every morning to such an audience as that,
preaching progress and high ideals, courage and honesty and kindness and
faith--moulding their opinions and beliefs, their ambitions, their very
habits of thought, as I think they ought to be moulded ..."

He talked in about this vein till eleven o'clock, and Sharlee listened
with sincere admiration. Nevertheless, he left her still troubled by a
faint doubt as to how Mr. Queed himself felt about what had been done
for his larger good. But when she next saw Queed, only a few days later,
this doubt instantly dissolved and vanished. She had never seen him less
inclined to indict the world and his fortune.

XXI

_Queed sits on the Steps with Sharlee, and sees Some Old Soldiers
go marching by._

Far as the eye could see, either way, the street was two parallels of
packed humanity. Both sidewalks, up and down, were loaded to capacity
and spilling off surplus down the side-streets. Navigation was next to
impossible; as for crossing you were a madman to think of such a thing.
At the sidewalks' edge policemen patrolled up and down in the street
with their incessant cry of "Back there!"--pausing now and then to
dislodge small boys from trees, whither they had climbed at enormous
peril to themselves and innocent by-standers. Bunting, flags, streamers
were everywhere; now and then a floral arch bearing words of welcome
spanned the roadway; circus day in a small town was not a dot upon the
atmosphere of thrilled expectancy so all-pervasive here. It was, in
fact, the crowning occasion of the Confederate Reunion, and the fading
remnants of Lee's armies were about to pass in annual parade and review.

Mrs. Weyland's house stood full on the line of march. It was the house
she had come to as a bride; she owned it; and because it could not
easily be converted over her head into negotiable funds, it had escaped
the predacious clutches of Henry G. Surface. After the crash, it would
doubtless have been sensible to sell it and take something cheaper; but
sentiment made her cling to this house, and her daughter, in time, went
to work to uphold sentiment's