"About three minutes," she answered, entering. She looked him in the eye; he saw that she was excited, and flushed under the admiration which showed in her glance.
"I am sorry you ran into this," he said. "I had not expected it for a fortnight."
"I am glad," she returned. "What a peaceful spot this will be for a while. You will show us over the mill?"
"Not when this has just happened," he answered. "It would be too much like showing off the animals I had tamed. Will you excuse me?"
"I must see the office, then," she said. "Open your safe: pretend I am a bank inspector, do!"
He laughed and introduced the sisters to Miss Jenks, laid out his books, opened the safe, and challenged their criticism. Judith had never been in an office before: the excitement of what she had just seen still dominated her. To the stenographer's eyes she was dazzling, enchanting; even Mather, though he told himself that the interest would pass, was deeply pleased. He showed the store-room with its stock of sheet metal, the yard, the wharf, the coal-pockets. Returning to the mill, the three entered the office again.
"It is almost twelve," said Beth, looking at the clock.
A new interest took Judith, and she did not hear. Miss Jenks was at work at her typewriter; she realised that Judith was watching her—critically, of course. The magnificent Miss Blanchard must be above such a thing as typewriting.
But Judith was interested rather than critical as she watched the clever fingers at their work. It did not seem hard, and it fascinated her as at each stroke a long type-arm sprang up, reached over, and struck upon the paper. Letters grew to words, words to lines—and a faint glow spread over the stenographer's face as Miss Blanchard moved forward to her side and looked down at her work.
"You don't mind, do you?" asked Judith.