VI
One day, on the street, Quincy saw Professor Deering. Quincy was hurt at the Professor. He was in a mood for a cold bow that would leave its mark. But the big man stopped him and talked the mood away in cordiality.
“Mr. Burt—I am ashamed of myself,” he smiled wanly. “There have been worries and they have made me rude. Walk me home, now, will you?”
Quincy followed tacitly at his side.
“I was very grateful for that paper,” went on the Professor. “I gave Snowdon of the Monthly a piece of my mind for rejecting it. But tell me, how are you?”
“I am getting on, thank you, Professor Deering.”
“That is as it should be. I am glad to hear it. I wasn’t so sure of you, you see.”
Quincy’s heart sank. It was as if he had been found out, as if a guilt had been fixed on him. Yet, he knew that the Professor’s words tokened merely respect and an unusual interest.
The Professor went on: “You evidently have qualities of rebellion, Mr. Burt. If you have the strength to support what these qualities will always bring you, I have no fear for you. But it is more common to revolt than to support what revolt sets up.”
“I’m all right, Mr. Deering,” Quincy replied; “I am not in the least worried. I am having a bully time.”