"Miss Jenks," he said, and the stenographer vanished.
"Anything?" asked Mather.
Pease put his hand on his shoulder. "Just a message," he answered. "Miss Elizabeth Blanchard——"
"Oh, Beth, you mean," said Mather.
"Yes," replied Pease. "She told me to tell you to come and see them."
"Indeed?" asked Mather.
"She was particular about it," Pease urged. "She meant something by it."
"Thanks," was all Mather said. "Now these enlargements, Mr. Pease. You meant what you said?"
"Yes, yes," answered Pease impatiently, and closed his hand on the other's shoulder. "And I mean this: Take Miss Blanchard's advice. Good day." He went to the door, and turned. "Ellis was up there this afternoon."
On his way home he did little thinking, but he felt. He had touched people's lives in a new way; he felt the breath of Mather's romance, and warmed at the trust which Beth reposed in him. Odd quivers ran through him, strange little impulses toward his kind, calling him to a youth which his life had earlier denied him. It was not possible for him to understand their meaning, but they were pleasurable.