The girl had her mother's irresistible charm. Not so handsome, true, but of a gentler type, thought Holm to himself as he looked at the fresh young face.
And that fair curling hair of hers went splendidly with the dark eyebrows.
"You're working too hard; you mustn't overdo it, you know," he said kindly.
"Not the least bit, really; I like it. I've quite fallen in love with the big ledger here, it's such a nice comfortable old-fashioned thing."
"So you like old-fashioned things? Perhaps you would include me in the category of old?"
"You, Mr. Holm! Of course not. Why, you're just in the prime of life."
"Well, yes, I hope so. But what would you say, now, if a man—in the prime of life—were to say to you, My dear Miss Betty, will you come and help to brighten up my home? You're too good to wear yourself out with working in an office, when you might be filling a man's life with comfort and content."
Betty got down from her stool and stood looking at him in astonishment.
"Really, Mr. Holm, I don't know what you mean!"
"Oh, I know I'm much older than you, Miss Betty, but my heart's as young as ever, and I can offer you a good home and devoted affection, better, perhaps, than you would find elsewhere."