“Indeed I should! Not that my judgment or advice is worth anything, of course. But I am very, very fond of poetry, and to see how a real poet wrote would be wonderful. And if I could help you, even the least little bit, it would be such an honor.”
This sort of thing was balm to the Speranza spirit. Albert's temperamental ego expanded under it like a rosebud under a summer sun. Yet there was a faint shadow of doubt—she might be making fun of him. He looked at her intently and she seemed to read his thoughts, for she said:
“Oh, I mean it! Please believe I do. I haven't spoken that way when Jane was with me, for she wouldn't understand and would laugh, but I mean it, Mr. Speranza. It would be an honor—a great honor.”
So the still protesting and rebellious Googoo was compelled to go a few feet away and lie down, while his mistress and the young man whom he had attempted to devour bent their heads together over a scribbling-pad and talked and exclaimed during the whole of that hour and a full three-quarters of the next. Then the distant town clock in the steeple of the Congregational church boomed five times and Miss Fosdick rose to her feet.
“Oh,” she said, “it can't really be five o'clock, can it? But it is! What WILL mother fancy has become of me? I must go this minute. Thank you, Mr. Speranza. I have enjoyed this so much. It has been a wonderful experience.”
Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining. She had grown handsomer than ever during the winter months. Albert's eyes were shining also as he impulsively seized her hand.
“Thank you, Miss Fosdick,” he said. “You have helped me more than I can tell you. I was about to give up in despair before you came, and now—now I KNOW I shall write the best thing I have ever done. And you will be responsible for it.”
She caught her breath. “Oh, not really!” she exclaimed. “You don't mean it, really?”
“Indeed I do! If I might have your help and sympathy once in awhile, I believe—I believe I could do almost anything. Will you help me again some day? I shall be here almost every pleasant Saturday and Sunday afternoon. Will you come again?”
She hesitated. “I—I'll see; perhaps,” she answered hurriedly. “But I must go now. Come, Goo.”