He laughed. “We are usually what you might call busy in this office, but you may have twenty minutes. Take your time.”
“Well, it’s this: I’ve left Peele Manor for good and all, and I want to be a newspaper woman.”
Mr. Field’s shaggy white brows rushed up his forehead. His black eyes expanded.
“My God! What did you make such a break as that for?”
“There are many reasons. I can’t give them all. But all the same I’ve left, and I’m not going back.”
“Well, your reasons must be good, for you had a delightful position, and you became it. Are you sure you are not acting rashly?”
“I’ve thought and thought and thought about it. I can’t understand why I didn’t leave before. I suppose my ideas and intentions didn’t crystallise until I met Miss Merrien. She has been very kind. I sent my clothes to her by degrees; she engaged a room for me in her house; we are going to cook together; and I have given her what money I have to take care of.”
“Well, well, you have acted deliberately. I don’t know that I am so much surprised, after all, and I’ll say nothing to persuade you to go back. I respect your courage and independence, and I’ll do all I can. I haven’t the slightest idea what you can do, but we’ll find out.” He leaned forward and patted her hand. Patience had one moment of painful misgiving, but again she had misjudged him. “If you get discouraged, just remember that the old man at the helm is your friend and won’t let you go under.”
“I’m sure you’re awfully good,” said Patience, tears of contrition and gratitude in her eyes. “I knew you would.”
Mr. Field touched a bell. A boy entered.