But the confinement of indoor work had been too much for Mildred Case,
and the only outdoor job she could find was the position of lady
waitress in the rustic Rolling Stone Inn.
She was very, very beautiful, or perhaps it was one of those days--but
let that pass, too.
"You are the great Mr. Percy Smith, Curator of the Anthropological
Department, are you not?" she asked shyly.
"Yes," I said modestly; and, to slightly rebuke any superfluous pride in
me, I paraphrased with becoming humility, pointing upward: "but remember,
Mildred, there is One greater than I."
"Mr. Carnegie?" she nodded innocently. That was true, too. I let it go at
that.
We chatted: she mentioned Professor Boomly and Dr. Quint, gently
deploring the rupture of their friendship. Both gentlemen, in common with
the majority of the administration personnel, were daily customers at the
Rolling Stone Inn. I usually took my lunch from my boarding-house to my
office, being too busy to go out for mere nourishment.
That is why I had hitherto missed Mildred Case.
"Mildred," I said, "I do not believe it can be wholesome for a man to eat
sandwiches while taking minute measurements of defunct monkeys.
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