Gloria, with Bobs and Ralph, had attended a Sunday afternoon meeting of the Boy’s Club and Mr. Hardinian had walked home with them and had remained for tea. He was very glad to have an opportunity to talk with a young woman whose interest in welfare work paralleled his own, especially as he had one rather wayward boy whom he believed needed mothering more than all else.
Gloria’s heart indeed was touched when she heard the sad story that the young man had to tell, and she gladly offered to do what she could.
She invited the wayward boy to one of her game evenings at the Settlement House, and in teaching him to play honestly she not only won his ardent devotion but also saved him from being sent to the island reformatory for petty thievery.
After that Mr. Hardinian frequently called upon Gloria when he needed advice or help.
The little old book shop, during the eventful two weeks, had started, or so it would seem, on a very successful business career.
Because of the little memorandum that she had made in her note book on the day that Nell Wiggin had first telephoned to her, Mrs. Doran-Ashley did tell the ladies who attended the next model tenement board meeting about the shop, and asked them to visit it, which they did, being sincerely interested in all that pertained to their venture. And not only did they buy books, but they left others to be sold on commission. One glance at the fine face of the lad who was bookseller made them realize that, crippled as he might be, he would not accept charity.
“How’s business this hot day?” Bobs asked early one morning, as she poked her head in at the door. She was on her way down to the Fourth Avenue Branch of the Burns Detective Agency, where she went every day to do a few hours’ secretarial work for Mr. Jewett.
“We had a splendid trade yesterday,” the lad replied, as he looked up from the old book of poetry which he was reading. And yet, since he held a pencil, Bobs concluded that he was also writing verse as the inspiration came.
“How so?” she inquired.
“The shop had a visit from no less a personage than Mr. Van Loon, the millionaire book collector, of whom you told me. He bought several volumes that I hadn’t supposed were worth a farthing, and what he paid for them will more than cover our expenses up to date. I wonder how he happened to know about this out-of-the-way shop?”