"For a public career," said Delilah, with a sigh, "I should think you had far rather be editor of the Post, for example, than head of this college."
Samson made an engaging reply that had to do with Colonel Cowles. The talk ran off into other channels, but somehow Delilah's remark stuck in the young man's head.
Soul is not all that flows at the Thursday German, and it has frequently been noticed that the dance becomes gayest after supper. But it becomes, too, sadly brief, and Home Sweet Home falls all too soon upon the enthralled ear. Now began the movement toward that place, be it never so humble, like which there is none; and amid the throng gathered in the vestibule before the cloak-rooms, West again found himself face to face with Miss Weyland with whom he had stepped many a measure that evening.
"I've been thinking about it lots, President West," said she; "it grows better all the time. Won't you please teach all your boys to be very good, and to work hard, and never to grow up to make trouble for the State Department of Charities."
She had on a carriage-robe of light blue, collared and edged with white fur, and her arms were as full of red roses as arms could be.
"But if I do that too well," said he, "what would become of you? Blaines College shall never blot out the Department of Charities. I nearly forgot a bit of news. Gloomy news. The Post is going to fire your little Doctor."
"Ah—no!"
"It looks that way. The directors will take it up definitely in April. Colonel Cowles is going to recommend it. He says the Doc has more learning than society requires."
"But don't you think his articles give a—a tone to the paper—and—?"
"I do; a sombre, awful, majestic tone, if you like, but still one that ought to be worth something."