Salome heard something of this, but did not allow the knowledge to disquiet her.
“A few months will convince them,” she said, quietly. “No wonder they are on the lookout for oppression and extortion. As near as I can judge, this factory has long been run on a plan to warrant them in such a belief.” And this was all she ever said against Otis Greenough’s method of administering affairs at the mills.
As the summer went by, Salome’s friends in the town began to wonder at her extravagant outlay, as they called it. They prophesied that she would soon tire of her new amusement, and leave the houses unfinished, when her projects would fall flat. Some of them came to her and remonstrated, on the ground that her inexperience in financial affairs was cause enough for her leaving the Shawsheen Mills and the employes as they had been. But invariably she replied, that if she had chosen to build herself a million-dollar castle, they would have approved of her; but because she proposed to spend a half-million on the mill property, all of which she felt sure would return to her some day with interest, she was called extravagant and foolish.
“But if you had built the million-dollar house,” said Mrs. Greenough, “it would have been a great thing for the place. Think what an ornament to Shepardtown it would be!”
“And think what an improvement—what a great thing for Shepardtown—it will be to tear away those miserable, tumble-down tenements on Shawsheen alley, and to add a hundred neat and cosy houses to the hill,” she retorted. “And, besides, you haven’t seen my—well, my Institution (I haven’t named it yet). Think what an ornament that will be to the place.”
But as nobody realized what the “Institution” of her dreams was to be, Salome got no sympathy from her friends. Curiosity increased on all hands, as the summer waned and an immense brick structure grew apace on the hill. It had a square, dome-like center, with huge wings on each side. But the workmen were sworn to secrecy, and nobody was allowed to go inside from the time the building was far enough advanced to allow of its entrances being fastened up.
XII.
It was finished at last. The plasterers and painters and plumbers had done their last stroke of work and departed, leaving the keys with Salome, as she had requested. On the same afternoon, she sent for Robert Fales, and together they showed Burnham and Villard, with Marion Shaw and Mrs. Soule—who was as anxious as any of them to see the place, although she would not own it—over the new building.
A broad flight of stone steps led up to the main entrance. The wooden framework, which had concealed the façade, had been taken down, and there, over the massive doorway, was the name of Salome’s “Institution,” carved in red sandstone—“Newbern Shepard Hall.”
“Why not simply Shepard Hall?” said Burnham, as they stood looking up at it.