Eleanor walked swiftly through the dusk.
"I don't want to hear anything," said she. "I will not hear anything."
As she approached the college gate she halted for an instant, out of breath and panting. Two men were coming slowly toward her from the other side. She heard Dr. Lister's clear, high voice and Dr. Scott's answering laugh. Not only had Mrs. Lister given her consent to the publication of Basil's manuscript, but the publisher of "Willard's," who was also a publisher of books, had said in answer to Dr. Scott's inquiry that he would be deeply interested in any work of Basil Everman's. Last, but not least, Mrs. Scott had gone to Atlantic City. Her husband had many reasons for cheerfulness.
"I wish that each day had forty-eight hours and that every one was a working hour," Eleanor heard him say gayly. Then, as Dr. Lister turned to go back to his own door, Dr. Scott called after him, "So Richard is back!"
"Yes," answered Dr. Lister. "He came the day before yesterday by way of Niagara. Mrs. Lister is getting him ready to go to New York."
"When does he go?"
"To-morrow. I'm going with him. His teacher doesn't usually begin so early, but he is making a special case of Richard."
"He's a lucky boy."
A meeting with Dr. Scott at the gate could not be avoided. He lifted his hat and came to Eleanor's side with courtly alacrity. He had no longer envy for any living soul. He told her as they walked along about Basil Everman, about his youth, about the extraordinary achievement which was to startle the reading world.
"We lack information about the two years of his absence from Waltonville. They were his richest years. But we must be grateful for what we have." He looked down kindly. The summer, he thought, had been hard on Eleanor as it had been hard on every one. "It makes one wish to be very diligent, doesn't it—such a record as this lad's?"