“I wonder if you can imagine, sir, what it means to me to see the inside of a house like this?”
“Bless my soul, what do you mean?” asked Wheeler, puzzled at the girl’s manner.
“It’s like a glimpse of Fairyland,” she went on. “You see, I’m terribly ambitious—oh, fearfully so! And all my ambitions lead to just this sort of a home. Do you suppose I’ll ever achieve it, Mr. Wheeler?”
Now the girl had truly wonderful magnetic charm, and even staid old Dan Wheeler was not insensible to the note of longing in her voice, the simple, honest admission of her hopes.
“Of course you will, little one,” he returned, kindly. “I’ve heard that whatever one wants, one gets, provided the wish is strong enough.” He spoke directly to her, but his gaze wandered as if his thoughts were far away.
“Do you really believe that?” Genevieve’s big blue eyes begged an affirmation.
“I didn’t say I believed it—I said I have heard it.” He smiled sadly. “Not quite the same—so far as I’m concerned; but quite as assuring to you. Of course, my belief wouldn’t endorse the possibility.”
“It would for me,” declared Genevieve. “I’ve lots of confidence in other people’s opinions——”
“Anybody’s?”
“Anybody whom I respect and believe in.”