"I had for some time had it in mind to tackle it myself. The fact was that we were developing a class of boy Don Juans that were a black disgrace to the city. It was a rather unpleasant subject, but this young man handled it with much tact, as well as with surprising vigor and ability. His improvement seemed to date from right there. I encouraged him to follow up his first effort, and he wrote a strong series which attracted attention all through the State, and has already brought about decided improvement."
"Splendid! You know," said West, "the first time I ever looked at that boy, I was sure he had the stuff in him."
"Then you are a far keener observer than I. However, the nature of the man seems to be undergoing some subtle change, a curious kind of expansion—I don't remember anything like it in my experience. A more indefatigable worker I never saw, and if he goes on this way.... Well, God moves in a mysterious way. It's a delight to see you again, Gardiner. Take supper with me at the club, won't you? I feel lonely and grown old, as the poet says."
West accepted, and presently departed on his happy round. The Colonel glanced at his watch; it was 3.30 o'clock, and he fell industriously to work again. On the stroke of four, as usual, the door of the adjoining office opened, and he heard his assistant enter and seat himself at the new desk recently provided for him. Another half-hour passed, and the Colonel, putting a double cross-mark at the bottom of his paper—that being how you write "Finis" on the press—raised his head.
"Mr. Queed."
"Yes."
The connecting door opened, and the young man walked in. His chief eyed him thoughtfully.
"Young man, you have picked up a complexion like a professional beauty's. What is your secret?"
"I daresay it is exercise. I have just walked out to Kern's Castle and back."
"H'm. Five miles if it's a step."