"Very well," said Celia. "I will tell you exactly what I think of it."
"Honest Injun?" he queried, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Honest Injun," repeated Celia. "And I think I shall be able to say
something very nice; for I am sure you are clever."
He blushed, and his eyes danced.
"You've said something very nice already," he said, gratefully; "and
when you say it like that--well, upon my word, it makes me feel that I
am clever. And that's half the battle, Miss Grant. A man is just what he
feels himself to be; that's why nothing succeeds like success; to feel
that other people know you can do your job. Oh, well!"
Celia nodded. "I must go back," she said. "I was not able to begin my
work so early as usual this morning."
"Not feeling well?" he said, anxiously, and with a glance at her face
which, he had noticed, was paler than usual. "I suppose you've got the
Reading-Room headache. Everybody gets it; it's the general stuffiness of
the place. They can't help it--the officials, I mean; they've tried all
sorts of dodges for ventilation; it's better than it used to be; but
it's still crammed full of headache."
"No; I've been worried this morning," said Celia, more to herself than
to him.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, in a voice full of a boy's ready sympathy.
"Look here! Is it anything I can help you with? I mean----" He grew red,
and stammered. "Oh, of course, you'll laugh; and it's like my cheek,
but--you helped me, you know--and we're brothers and sisters in
misfortune, working on the same treadmill--I'd do anything for you--it
would be a pleasure----"
Celia sighed as she smiled, and wondered idly how he would respond if
she said, "Well, find a man for me, a man whose name I don't know, to
whose whereabouts I have not the slightest clue." She shook her head.
"It is very good of you," she said; "but you could not help me; no one
could."
"I am sorry," he murmured. "I should have loved to have done something
for you; perhaps I may some day--lion and the mouse, you know. It's a
rum world. You'll find my address on the manuscript," he added, shyly,
as she rose.
He did not follow her; but later in the afternoon Celia caught sight of
him seated at the farther end of the Reading Room. He was looking in her
direction, but, as his eyes met hers, he dropped them and bent over his
work. It was evident that he had changed his place lest she should think
he was intruding on her.