“Most young women find a solution to that question without running an eleemosynary institution,” was Burnham’s mental comment; but he said nothing.
“I expect to see my happiest days while I have the care of this establishment. I’m sure I never was so happy as I’ve been for the past six months. Now, I must finish this great house. I shall need all the suggestions and practical aid you can each give me, especially about the libraries and reading-rooms. As to the selection of books, I’m going to begin with a comparative few. Will you two gentlemen come up to the house to-morrow night, prepared to help make out a suitable list?”
“You forget that I have to go to New York to-morrow,” said Burnham. “But Villard can go; and I can help afterwards, you know.”
“As soon as we get everything in readiness,” pursued Salome, “we will have a formal opening. We’ll have music and something good to eat, and a little talking, and perhaps a dance to close with.” Salome looked wickedly at her aunt, but the latter paid no heed. “Remember your promise, Mr. Villard.”
“I shall not be the one to forget it,” he answered.
They separated very soon, Salome and her aunt and Marion taking the architect home with them, and Burnham and Villard going back to the mills.
But all through the afternoon, and all through the watches of the night, one sentence repeated itself to John Villard’s heart, comforting and helping him, strangely: “I have counted on you from the first.”
XIII.
It was Halloween when the new building was formally opened. Up to that time, only a few privileged persons were allowed to enter its sacred portals; but every one connected with the Shawsheen Mills was invited to be present at the opening.
On the hill, back of the mills, stood one hundred new cottages, each costing from fifteen to twenty-five hundred dollars, and all ready for occupancy; but as yet none of the mill-hands had seen the inside of one of them.