eccentric attitude, but not a dangerous one. The worst fate I’ve ever inflicted on any child is to avoid it. As it happens, however,” she added, “I did once more or less solve a case for a child. Do you think that will serve to redeem me in the eyes of those with maternal instincts?”
Kate was in her office at the university, about to conclude that her office hour was over and the thought of a martini with Reed could be realistically contemplated, when sheheard a timid knock. Kate looked through the glass in the top half of her door and saw a silhouette reaching only a few inches above where the glass began. A midget, she thought. Well, midgets have problems too. But do they have academic problems, and with me? She opened the door to find herself confronting a girl child wearing a school uniform, glasses, braces, and a frown. Kate stared at the child so long, she asked if she might come in. Kate apologized and ushered her in, closing the door.
“Forgive me,” Kate said. “I was just a bit startled. You look rather young for graduate school. Or even for college, if it comes to that. Are you lost?”
“I’ve come to hire you as a detective,” the child said. “I have money. My father says you probably couldn’t find a herd of buffalo in a field covered with snow, but I figure if he doesn’t like you, you must be good.”
“My dear young woman,” Kate said, dropping back into the chair behind her desk, “I don’t know which misapprehension to confront first. But, in the order in which you offered them: I’m not a detective, either private or police; they work at that job a lot harder than I do; I have detected from time to time, but I never take money, it might cloud the fine, careless rapture of the adventure; I don’t know who your father is; and I am somewhat concerned that you hold his opinion in such low regard.”
You might think all this verbiage would have frightened the kid, but she held her ground admirably. “I hope I didn’t offend you about the money,” she said, returning her wallet to her pocket. “I would be very glad of your help.”
“It doesn’t sound to me as though your father would approve of your seeking my help, nor of my offering it. Who is your father? Someone I know?”
“His name is Professor Witherspoon,” the child said, assured that his name was sufficient to establish his identity and credentials in Kate’s eyes. She was quite right. Witherspoon was a member of Kate’s department, and to say that he and Kate never saw eye to eye on anything was to put their relationship in its least emotional terms. Kate was frank to admit that she could never decide if he was a monster or a lunatic; the best that could be said on her side was that most of the department agreed with her. Kate eyed his progeny with some dismay.
“It sounds to me as though I’m the last person you should come to. Am I to gather that your dislike of your father is sufficient to recommend to you someone he despises?”
The kid had no trouble with this one either, merely nodding. “I think he’s the most awful man I know,” she added. “I didn’t come to you just for that reason, though. My sister took a class with you, and she considered you worthy of recommendation.”
“Well,” Kate said with some relief, “I’m glad to hear there is one member of your family that you like. But I can’t say I ever remember having a Witherspoon in my class. I don’t remember all my students’ names, but I have a feeling I would have noticed hers.”
“Roxanna has taken our mother’s name: Albright. I’m going to do the same as soon as I can. I’ll have to wait at least until I leave high school. My sister is a lot older than me; she’s very smart and very beautiful, not like me.”
“You look fine to me,” Kate said. She meant it. Kate is the best disregarder of beauty in any conventional sense I’ve ever met, and if a person is glamorous or studiously well-dressed, they have to go a
Kate was in her office at the university, about to conclude that her office hour was over and the thought of a martini with Reed could be realistically contemplated, when sheheard a timid knock. Kate looked through the glass in the top half of her door and saw a silhouette reaching only a few inches above where the glass began. A midget, she thought. Well, midgets have problems too. But do they have academic problems, and with me? She opened the door to find herself confronting a girl child wearing a school uniform, glasses, braces, and a frown. Kate stared at the child so long, she asked if she might come in. Kate apologized and ushered her in, closing the door.
“Forgive me,” Kate said. “I was just a bit startled. You look rather young for graduate school. Or even for college, if it comes to that. Are you lost?”
“I’ve come to hire you as a detective,” the child said. “I have money. My father says you probably couldn’t find a herd of buffalo in a field covered with snow, but I figure if he doesn’t like you, you must be good.”
“My dear young woman,” Kate said, dropping back into the chair behind her desk, “I don’t know which misapprehension to confront first. But, in the order in which you offered them: I’m not a detective, either private or police; they work at that job a lot harder than I do; I have detected from time to time, but I never take money, it might cloud the fine, careless rapture of the adventure; I don’t know who your father is; and I am somewhat concerned that you hold his opinion in such low regard.”
You might think all this verbiage would have frightened the kid, but she held her ground admirably. “I hope I didn’t offend you about the money,” she said, returning her wallet to her pocket. “I would be very glad of your help.”
“It doesn’t sound to me as though your father would approve of your seeking my help, nor of my offering it. Who is your father? Someone I know?”
“His name is Professor Witherspoon,” the child said, assured that his name was sufficient to establish his identity and credentials in Kate’s eyes. She was quite right. Witherspoon was a member of Kate’s department, and to say that he and Kate never saw eye to eye on anything was to put their relationship in its least emotional terms. Kate was frank to admit that she could never decide if he was a monster or a lunatic; the best that could be said on her side was that most of the department agreed with her. Kate eyed his progeny with some dismay.
“It sounds to me as though I’m the last person you should come to. Am I to gather that your dislike of your father is sufficient to recommend to you someone he despises?”
The kid had no trouble with this one either, merely nodding. “I think he’s the most awful man I know,” she added. “I didn’t come to you just for that reason, though. My sister took a class with you, and she considered you worthy of recommendation.”
“Well,” Kate said with some relief, “I’m glad to hear there is one member of your family that you like. But I can’t say I ever remember having a Witherspoon in my class. I don’t remember all my students’ names, but I have a feeling I would have noticed hers.”
“Roxanna has taken our mother’s name: Albright. I’m going to do the same as soon as I can. I’ll have to wait at least until I leave high school. My sister is a lot older than me; she’s very smart and very beautiful, not like me.”
“You look fine to me,” Kate said. She meant it. Kate is the best disregarder of beauty in any conventional sense I’ve ever met, and if a person is glamorous or studiously well-dressed, they have to go a
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