“Well, but according to the modern standards, do you think he is?”

“I don’t know.  He is and he isn’t.  But no—­no—­no!  He is not one.  No man can be a gentleman who is utterly indifferent to the comfort and feelings of others, do you think so?”

“Indeed, no!  And is that what he is?”

“I will illustrate by an incident,” said Mrs. Paynter.  “As I say, this young man spends his entire time in his room, where he is, I believe, engaged in writing a book.”

“Oh, me!  Then he’s penniless, depend upon it.”

“Well, when we had the frost and freeze early last week, he came to me one night and complained of the cold in his room.  You know, Sharlee, I do not rent that room as a sitting-room, nor do I expect to heat it, at the low price, other than the heat from the halls.  So I invited him to make use of the dining-room in the evenings, which, as you know, with the folding-doors drawn, and the yellow lamp lit, is converted to all intents and purposes into a quiet and comfortable reading-room.  Somewhat grumblingly he went down.  Fifi was there as usual, doing her algebra by the lamp.  The young man took not the smallest notice of her, and presently when she coughed several times—­the child’s cold happened to be bad that night—­he looked up sharply and asked her please to stop.  Fifi said that she was afraid she couldn’t help it.  He replied that it was impossible for him to work in the room with a noise of that sort, and either the noise or he would have to vacate.  So Fifi gathered up her things and left.  I found her, half an hour later, in her little bedroom, which was ice-cold, coughing and crying over her sums, which she was trying to work at the bureau.  That was how I found out about it.  The child would never have said a word to me.”

“How simply outrageous!” said the girl, and became silent and thoughtful.

“Well, what do you think I’d better do, Sharlee?”

“I think you’d better let me waylay him in the hall after supper and tell him that the time has come when he must either pay up or pack up.”

“My dear!  Can you well be as blunt as that?”

“Dear Aunt Jennie, as I view it, you are not running an eleemosynary institution here?”

“Of course not,” replied Aunt Jennie, who really did not know whether she was or not.

Sharlee dropped into a chair and began manicuring her pretty little nails.  “The purpose of this establishment is to collect money from the transient and resident public.  Now you’re not a bit good at collecting money because you’re so well-bred, but I’m not so awfully well-bred—­”

“You are—­”

“I’m bold—­blunt—­brazen!  I’m forward.  I’m resolute and grim.  In short, I belong to the younger generation which you despise so—­”

“I don’t despise you, you dear—­”

“Come,” said Sharlee, springing up; “let’s go down.  I’m wild to meet Mr. Bylash again.  Is he wearing the moleskin vest to-night, do you know?  I was fascinated by it the last time I was here.  Aunt Jennie, what is the name of this young man—­the one I may be compelled to bounce?”