"Then I agree with you in thinking that your father is not treating you fairly. His attitude toward you is extraordinary, to say the least of it. But of course there must be some good reason for this. Has it occurred to you that he may be in some--situation where it is not possible for him to reveal himself to you?" "Such as what?" "Well, I don't know--" "Why doesn't he say so plainly in his letters then?" "I don't know." The young man threw out his hands with a gesture which inquired what in the mischief she was talking about then. "Here is another thought," said Sharlee, not at all disconcerted. "Have you considered that possibly he may be doing this way--as a test?" "Test of what?" "Of you. I mean that, wanting to--to have you with him now, he is taking this way of finding out whether or not you want him. Don't you see what I mean? He appeals here to the natural feelings of a son, and then again he tells you to make friends and learn to like people. Evidently he is expecting something of you--I don't know exactly what. But don't you think, perhaps, that if you began a search for him, he would take it as a sign--" "I told you that there was no way in which a search, as you call it, could be begun. Nor, if there were, have I the smallest inclination to begin it. Nor, again, if I had, could I possibly take the time from My Book." She was silent a moment. "There is, of course, one way in which you could find out at any moment." "Indeed! What is that, pray?" "Mr. Tim Queed." He smiled faintly but derisively. "Hardly. Of course Tim knows all about it. He told me once that he was present at the wedding of my parents; another time that my mother died when I was born. But he would add, and will add, not a word to these confidences; not even to assure me definitely that my father is still alive. He says that he has sworn an oath of secrecy. I called on him before I left New York. No, no; I may discover my father or he may discover me, or not, but we can rest absolutely assured that I shall get no help from Tim." "But you can't mean simply to sit still--" "And leave matters to him. I do." "But--but," she still protested, "he is evidently unhappy Mr. Queed--evidently counting on you for something--" "Then let him come out like a man and say plainly what he wants. I cannot possibly drop my work to try to solve entirely superfluous enigmas. Keep all this in mind--take an interest in it, will you?" he added briskly. "Possibly I might need your help some day." "Certainly I will. I appreciate your telling me about it, and I'd be so glad to help you in any way that I could." "How do you like my editorials?" he demanded abruptly. "I'm afraid I don't understand a line of them!" He waved his hand indulgently, like a grandfather receiving the just tribute of his little ones. "They are for thinkers, experts," said he, and picked up his pencil.