“But what are we going to do? Can’t we get him back?” asked Salome.
“We can try,” was the reply, “but Burnham is a pretty determined fellow when he fairly makes up his mind. Shall I go over and see him?”
“If you please. Tell him to come back with you; I want to persuade him to stay if I can.”
Villard went over to Burnham’s house, but he had already gone to Lowell to complete arrangements to enter the new position. Mrs. Burnham knew nothing of either this plan or her son’s sudden resignation. Villard returned to Salome.
“What are we going to do,” she asked, “supposing he refuses to come back—even at an increased salary?”
“Don’t you think you and I can run the business alone for a while?” returned Villard, “at least until we can find a good man. Good superintendents don’t grow on every bush.”
“Do you think I am capable of taking his place—with your help, of course?” Salome looked earnestly at him.
“I think you are quite capable of doing anything noble and great,” he answered, fervently.
“With your help,” she said, in a low tone. “Of course I will do anything, and shall be only too proud,” she hastened to add, “if I have succeeded in learning enough of the business to be of any use.”
Villard looked again at her averted eyes, and checked an impulse to say something more. Had he known a tenth as much of women as of cotton factories, his fortune and happiness had been in his own hands. But he honestly thought she had turned away her eyes and spoken the last sentence to turn him away from saying more; while she was saying to herself as she turned to her desk again: