It was less than a week ago that the poor outcast had fainted from lack of food, but he had already become a fixture in the office. George Udell confided to Miss Wilson that he did not know how he could get along without him, and that he was, by long odds, the best hand he had ever had. He was quick and sure in his work, and as George put it, "You don't have to furnish him a map when you tell him to do anything." With three good meals a day and a comfortable cot in the office for the night, with the privilege of spending his evenings by the fire, and the assurance that there was work for him for many weeks ahead, it was no wonder that Dick whistled as he bent over the stone. Locking up the form, he carried it to the press and was fixing the guide pins, when the door opened and a young lady came in.
Dick's whistle stopped instantly and his face flushed like a school girl as he gave her a chair and went to call Udell, who was in the other room trying to convince the boy that the stove needed a bucket of coal.
"Faith," said Dick to himself, as he went back to the press, "If there is one girl in this world for me I hope she looks like that one. What a lovely voice," he added, as he carefully examined the first impression; "and a heavenly smile;" as he finished his work and went back to the composing case; "and what eyes,"—he turned sideways to empty his stick—"And what hair;" trying to read his copy—"a perfect form;" reaching for the type again. "I wonder who—"
"Dick!" shouted Udell. Crash went the overturned stool, and, "Yes Sir," answered the young man, with a very red face, struggling to his feet.
A merry light danced in the brown eyes, though the girlish countenance was serious enough.
Udell looked at his assistant in mingled wonder and amusement. "What's the matter, Dick?" he asked, as the latter came toward him.
"Nothing, Sir—I only—I was—" he looked around in confusion at the overturned stool, and the type on the floor.
"Yes, I see you were," said his employer with a chuckle. "Miss Goodrich, this is Mr. Falkner; perhaps he can help us out of our difficulty. Mr. Falkner is just from Kansas City," he added, "and is up in all the latest things in printing."
"Oh yes," and Amy's eyes showed their interest. "You see, Mr. Falkner, we are trying to select a cover design for this little book. Mr. Udell has suggested several, but we cannot come to any decision as to just the proper one. Which would you choose?"
Dick's embarrassment left him at once when a matter of work was to be considered. "This would be my choice," he said, selecting a design.