would do well to remember this complex and often misunderstood person with kindness.”
They all bowed their heads, agreeing that it was proper to mourn the death of Charles Abbott with more reverence than he was accorded in life. They listened and prayed, and nodded at the right places. The ceremony was brief but respectful of “a valued colleague” who had served the university well in his ten years there.
Kat wondered where Charlie lived, and what the police may have found. She whispered her concerns quietly to Nick and asked if they could take a look. He glared, so she decided to broach the subject later.
Chapter 7
A person’s ego is revealed with full capital ‘i’s, large capital letters, and leftward slant. What could force this person to destruction?
“Handwriting Analysis Self-Taught” by Joel Engel
Nick maneuvered her through the crowds of rushing students back to the office, looking around in awe as the students disappeared as quickly as they came.
“I don’t remember everything being quite this fast-paced when I was a student here. Is that senility setting in or have things changed that much?”
“Things have changed. Everything moves faster. Just look at the speed that information is now attainable through the Internet. Students are expected to know more and more at a faster pace because it’s more readily available. Besides, it’s midterm week. The Frisbees will be back out next week.”
Nick seemed pleased to think that the speedy students were just an aberration of exam week and that there was still a joie de vivre around campus. He studied the buildings, landmarks, and grounds, attempting to assess the campus with an unjaundiced eye. Even in the stark relief of a near-winter landscape, the place exuded tradition, reflecting that time long ago when a degree was not synonymous with a paycheck. Caught up in his reminiscing he almost knocked over a student hobbling along on crutches, the only snail in the crowd of hares. Kat stopped and sympathized with her, introducing Cheryl to Nick. “Cheryl’s one of our best track stars.”
Turning back to the student and her bandaged ankle she asked, “What happened?”
Cheryl, balancing precariously on the crutches, hung her head. “I was running. Got bored with my old path so I took a new one. It was dusk on the return trip and that’s what I did—tripped. It’s a pulled tendon.”
Cheryl looked at Kat with pleading eyes beneath her shaggy short haircut. “Please Miss Everitt, Melissa said you might be able to help me. I’m doing everything I was told and it’s just taking so long to heal.”
“OK. Here’s an idea. But there are no guarantees. Go talk to Jack in the biology greenhouse. Ask him if you can have some comfrey leaves. Tell him you need enough to make a paste for a week.”
“Mind you, don’t take it without Jack’s permission!”
“Sure thing. I wouldn’t know comfrey from dill anyway. So what do I do with it and how will it help?”
Kat described how to crush the leaves and make a paste. Spread the paste all over the injured area and bandage it back up. Leave it there for an hour or two and then cleanse the skin and let it dry. Try it a few times a day. Don’t eat it. It can be toxic to your liver!”
“So how will it help?”
“It won’t get rid of the discoloration. It’s too late for that. It only helps that if you apply it right away. The bruising will fade eventually but what you’re looking for now is to get the comfrey to seep under the skin to help heal the tendon.”
Cheryl’s head bobbed up and down frantically. “Gee thanks, Miss Everitt. I’ll hop right over there.” Cheryl was already doing a complex maneuver to turn around and head towards the greenhouses.
“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to let me know how it works out.” She turned back to Nick. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“I haven’t a clue. How do you do that? Does everyone on campus know you deal
They all bowed their heads, agreeing that it was proper to mourn the death of Charles Abbott with more reverence than he was accorded in life. They listened and prayed, and nodded at the right places. The ceremony was brief but respectful of “a valued colleague” who had served the university well in his ten years there.
Kat wondered where Charlie lived, and what the police may have found. She whispered her concerns quietly to Nick and asked if they could take a look. He glared, so she decided to broach the subject later.
Chapter 7
A person’s ego is revealed with full capital ‘i’s, large capital letters, and leftward slant. What could force this person to destruction?
“Handwriting Analysis Self-Taught” by Joel Engel
Nick maneuvered her through the crowds of rushing students back to the office, looking around in awe as the students disappeared as quickly as they came.
“I don’t remember everything being quite this fast-paced when I was a student here. Is that senility setting in or have things changed that much?”
“Things have changed. Everything moves faster. Just look at the speed that information is now attainable through the Internet. Students are expected to know more and more at a faster pace because it’s more readily available. Besides, it’s midterm week. The Frisbees will be back out next week.”
Nick seemed pleased to think that the speedy students were just an aberration of exam week and that there was still a joie de vivre around campus. He studied the buildings, landmarks, and grounds, attempting to assess the campus with an unjaundiced eye. Even in the stark relief of a near-winter landscape, the place exuded tradition, reflecting that time long ago when a degree was not synonymous with a paycheck. Caught up in his reminiscing he almost knocked over a student hobbling along on crutches, the only snail in the crowd of hares. Kat stopped and sympathized with her, introducing Cheryl to Nick. “Cheryl’s one of our best track stars.”
Turning back to the student and her bandaged ankle she asked, “What happened?”
Cheryl, balancing precariously on the crutches, hung her head. “I was running. Got bored with my old path so I took a new one. It was dusk on the return trip and that’s what I did—tripped. It’s a pulled tendon.”
Cheryl looked at Kat with pleading eyes beneath her shaggy short haircut. “Please Miss Everitt, Melissa said you might be able to help me. I’m doing everything I was told and it’s just taking so long to heal.”
“OK. Here’s an idea. But there are no guarantees. Go talk to Jack in the biology greenhouse. Ask him if you can have some comfrey leaves. Tell him you need enough to make a paste for a week.”
“Mind you, don’t take it without Jack’s permission!”
“Sure thing. I wouldn’t know comfrey from dill anyway. So what do I do with it and how will it help?”
Kat described how to crush the leaves and make a paste. Spread the paste all over the injured area and bandage it back up. Leave it there for an hour or two and then cleanse the skin and let it dry. Try it a few times a day. Don’t eat it. It can be toxic to your liver!”
“So how will it help?”
“It won’t get rid of the discoloration. It’s too late for that. It only helps that if you apply it right away. The bruising will fade eventually but what you’re looking for now is to get the comfrey to seep under the skin to help heal the tendon.”
Cheryl’s head bobbed up and down frantically. “Gee thanks, Miss Everitt. I’ll hop right over there.” Cheryl was already doing a complex maneuver to turn around and head towards the greenhouses.
“You’re welcome. Don’t forget to let me know how it works out.” She turned back to Nick. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“I haven’t a clue. How do you do that? Does everyone on campus know you deal
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