Drusilla looked at him critically.
"Set down, Mr. Henderson. James tells me that you are in trouble."
"Yes, Miss Doane. I hardly know which way to turn. Mr. Hawkins told me you might be good enough to help me."
"What is it you want? You are the laundry man, ain't you?"
"Yes; I have done the outside work for the place here for twelve years, and"—turning to Mrs. Carrington—"I think Mrs. Carrington will remember me. I work for her and worked for her mother before her."
"Certainly I know you, Mr. Henderson," said Mrs. Carrington. "I remember I used to coax you for a ride in your wagon when I was a little girl."
The man smiled.
"Yes, I've given all the children in Brookvale a ride some time or other."
"Now that we know who you are," said Drusilla, "jest tell me what the trouble is."
"It's this way, Miss Doane. The last year business has been bad and I have had to buy new machinery, and I put a mortgage on the place to pay for the machines, and then my wife was sick for most eight months and the doctor's bills and the nurses eat up all my ready money, and I find I'm in a corner and can't pay the interest on the mortgage, and can't get good help, because I can't pay the wages. I'm afraid I will lose my business."