College, and paying a high and confident tribute to his qualities as a citizen.  The young acting-editor, who never wrote what he did not think, had taken much pains with this editorial, especially the sketchy part.  Of course the pestiferous Chronicle took an entirely different view of the situation.  “The Chronicle has won its great fight,” so it nervily said, “against classism in Blames College.”  And it had the vicious taste to add:  “Nothing in Mr. West’s presidential life became him like the leaving of it.”

On the third day the directors met again.  With characteristic delicacy of feeling, West remained away from the meeting.  However, Mr. Hopkins, who seemed to know what he was talking about, at once expressed his conviction that they might safely proceed to the business which had brought them together.

“Perceiving clearly that I represent a minority view,” said Mr. Hickok, “I request the director who nominated Mr. Queed to withdraw his name.  I think it proper that our action should be unanimous.  But I will say, frankly, that if Mr. Queed’s name remains before the board, I shall vote for him, since I consider him from every point of view the man for the position.”

Mr. Queed’s name having been duly withdrawn, the directors unanimously elected Charles Gardiner West to the editorship of the Post.  By a special resolution introduced by Mr. Hopkins, they thanked Mr. Queed for his able conduct of the editorial page in the absence of the editor, and voted him an increased honorarium of eighteen hundred dollars a year.

The directors adjourned, and Mr. Hickok stalked out, looking more like James E. Winter than ever.  The other directors, however, looked highly gratified at themselves.  They went out heartily congratulating each other.  By clever work they had secured for their paper the services of one of the ablest, most gifted, most polished and popular young men in the State.  Nevertheless, though they never knew it, their action was decidedly displeasing to at least one faithful reader of the Post, to wit, Miss Charlotte Lee Weyland, of the Department of Charities.  Sharlee felt strongly that Mr. Queed should have had the editorship, then and there.  It might be said that she had trained him up for exactly that position.  Of course, Mr. West, her very good friend, would make an editor of the first order.  But, with all the flocks that roamed upon his horizon, ought he to have reached out and plucked the one ewe lamb of the poor assistant?  Besides, she thought that Mr. West ought to have remained at Blaines College.

But how could she maintain this attitude of criticism when the new editor himself, bursting in upon her little parlor in a golden nimbus of optimism, radiant good humor and success, showed up the shallowness and the injustice of it?

“To have that college off my neck—­Whew!  I’m as happy, my friend, as a schoolboy on the first day of vacation.  I haven’t talked much about it to you,” continued Mr. West, “for it’s a bore to listen to other people’s troubles—­but that college had become a perfect old man of the sea!  The relief is glorious!  I’m bursting with energy and enthusiasm and big plans for the Post.”