Quin's desire for self-improvement soon became an obsession. With Miss
Enid's assistance he got into a night course at the university, and
proceeded to attack his ignorance with something of the fierce
determination he had attacked the Hun the year before in France. He
plunged through bogs of history, got hopelessly entangled in the barbed
wire of mathematics, had hand-to-hand struggles with belligerent parts of
speech, and more than once suffered the shell-shock of despair. But his
watchword now, as then, was, "Up and at 'em!" And before long he had the
satisfaction of seeing his enemy gradually giving way.
Having taken his small public into his confidence in regard to his
belated ambition to get an education, he was surprised to find how ready
everybody was to help him. Mr. Chester not only assisted him with his
mathematics, but insisted upon taking him to hear good music, in the vain
effort to reclaim an ear hopelessly attuned to jazz and rag-time. Mr.
Martel devoted Sunday afternoons to making him read aloud from the
classics, with great attention to precise enunciation. Miss Isobel still
looked after his moral welfare, and Miss Enid continued to devote herself
to his social improvement. But it remained for Madam Bartlett to render
him the service of which he was most in need. Whenever the bubble of his
self-esteem threatened to carry him away, she always took pains to
puncture it.
"Don't let them make a fool of you, Graham," she said one day, as she
leaned heavily upon his arm in a painful effort to walk without her
crutches--an experiment that she allowed neither one of her daughters to
share, as they invariably limped with her and got frightened when she
stumbled. "They all treat you like a puppy that has learned to walk on
its hind legs. Remember that you belong on your hind legs. You are only
doing what most boys in your position do in their teens. If you were as
smart as they claim, you would have got an education long ago. But young
people these days have no sense! Just look at my granddaughter, for
instance."
There being no direction in which he was more eager to look, Quin gave
her his undivided attention.
"I've spent thousands of dollars on that girl's education," Madam
continued, "and what do you suppose she elected to specialize in?
'Expression'! In my day they called it elocution. When a girl was too
dumb to learn anything else, the teacher got money out of her parents by
teaching her to swing her arms around her hear and say, 'Curfew Shall Not
Ring To-night.' Now they all want to write poetry, or play the flute, or
go on the stage, or some other fool thing like that."
"What about those that want to go on a farm? That's sensible enough for
you." Quin couldn't resist the thrust on behalf of Mr. Ranny.
"It's sensible for a sensible person," Madam said crossly. "It's where
_you_ belong, instead of attempting all this university business."
There were times these days when Quin quite agreed with Madam. When the
tide of his confidence was out, he regarded himself as a hopeless fool
and despaired of ever making up the years he had lost. But at high tide
there was no limit to his aspirations, nor to his courage. While his
struggles at the university kept him humble, his success at the factory
constantly elated him. Having achieved two promotions in less than three
months, he already saw himself a prospective member of the firm. In fact,
he slightly anticipated this event by flinging himself into the affairs
of Bartlett & Bangs with even more ardor than was advisable. Hardly a day
passed that he did not seek a chance to apprise Mr. Bangs of some
colossal scheme or startling innovation that would revolutionize the
business.
"See here, young man," said Mr. Bangs, when this had occurred once too
often; "I pay you to work for me, not to think for me."
"But they are the same thing," urged Quin, with appalling temerity. "Why,
I can't sleep nights for thinking how other firms are walking away with
our business. Smith & Snelling, up in Illinois, have got a plant that's
half as big as ours, and they export twice as much stuff as we do. And
their plows can't touch ours; they ain't in a thousand miles of 'em."
"How do you know?"
"I've seen 'em both in action, and I've heard men talk about 'em. Why, if
we could get a start in the Orient, and open up an agency in Japan and
China----"
"There--that will do," said Mr. Bangs testily; "you get back to your
work. You talk too much."
Both Mr. Ranny and Mr. Chester warned Quin again and again that he was
not supposed to emerge from the obscurity of his humble position as
shipping clerk. But Quin was the descendant of a long line of
missionaries whose duty it was to reform. The effect of his heredity and
early environment was not only to increase his self-reliance and
intensify his motive power, but to commit him to ideals as well. Once he
recognized a condition as being capable of improvement, he could not rest
until he had tried to better it.
It was not until the approach of Easter that his mind began to stray from
the highroads of industry and learning into the byways of pleasure. From
certain signs about the Bartlett house it was apparent that preparations
were in progress for an event of importance. Paperhangers and cleaners
came and went, consultations were held daily concerning new rugs and
curtains. Miss Enid and Miss Isobel gave tentative orders and Madam
promptly countermanded them. Workmen were engaged and dismissed and
reëngaged. The door to the room at the head of the stairs, which he knew
to be Eleanor's, now stood open, revealing a pink-and-white bower. Stray
remarks now and then concerning caterers and music and invitations
further excited his fancy, and he waited impatiently for the time when he
should be formally apprised of Eleanor's home-coming.
Never before in his life had he been so inordinately happy. He burst into
song at strange times and places, and had to be spoken to more than once
for whistling in the office. Instead of studying at night, he frequently
lapsed into delectable reveries in which he anticipated the bliss of
being under the same roof with Eleanor. He already heard himself telling
her about his promotions, his work at the university, his capture of her
family. And always he pictured her as listening to him as she had that
day at the Hawaiian Garden, with lips ready to smile or tremble and eyes
that sparkled like little pools of water in the sunlight.
Occasionally reason suggested that she would be at home very little and
that the obnoxious Phipps would be lying in wait for her whenever she
went abroad. But Phipps was forbidden the house, and with such a handicap
as that he surely was out of the running. Besides, Miss Eleanor had
probably forgotten all about the Captain by this time! Thus reassuring
himself, the fatuous Quin loosened the reins of his fancy and rode full
tilt for an inevitable fall.
The first intimation of it came the week before Easter, when Madam
presented him with a handsome watch in recognition of his services. The
gift itself was sufficiently overwhelming, but the formal politeness of
the presentation sounded ominous. Madam suggested almost tactfully, in
conclusion, that, now she was on her feet again, he need not feel
obligated to remain longer.
"But I _don't_ feel obligated!" he burst out impetuously. "I'd rather
stay here than anywhere in the world."
"Well, you can't stay," said Madam, whose small stock of courtesy had
been exhausted on her initial speech. "My granddaughter is bringing some
girls home with her for the Easter vacation, and I need your room."
"But I'll sleep in the third story," urged Quin wildly. "You can billet
me any old place--I don't care _where_ you put me."
"No," said Madam firmly. "It's best for you to go."
That night at dinner the sisters did what they could to soften the blow
for Quin. They gave vague excuses that did not excuse, and explanations
that did not explain.
"Of course, we have no idea of losing sight of you," Miss Enid said with
forced brightness. "You must drop in often to tell us how you are getting
along and to make mother laugh. You are the only person I know who can do
that."
"Yes, and we shall count on you to come to supper every Sunday evening,"
Miss Isobel added; "then we can go to church together."
"Next Sunday?" asked Quin, faintly hopeful.
"Well, no," said Miss Isobel. "For the next two weeks we shall be
occupied with the young ladies and their friends; but after that we shall
look for you."
Quin looked at the two gentle sisters in dumb amazement. How _could_ they
sit there saying such kind things to him, and at the same time shut the
door between him and the great opportunity of his life? What did it all
mean? Where had he failed? Surely there was some terrible misunderstanding!
In his complete bewilderment he created quite the most dreadful blunder
that is registered against him in his long list of social sins.
"But don't you expect me to meet the young ladies?" he blurted out
indignantly. "Aren't you going to ask me to the party?"
A horrible pause followed, during which the walls seemed to rock around
him and he felt the blood surging to his head. He was starting up from
the table when Miss Enid laid a quieting hand on his sleeve.
"Of course you are to be invited, Quinby," she said in her suavest tones;
"the invitation will reach you to-morrow."