“No, Miss Hattie, and do not consider me so. The new duties you perform are more valuable to us than you conceive. So consider that it is the firm, not yourself, under obligation.”
Hattie understood and felt the delicacy of his thoughts and words, and appreciated the true manliness of his heart; but she could only thank him—all other reward must come from his own consciousness of being kind to her.
Some way, during the morning, he had dropped out his idea of going to California to the foreman, and Mr. Jones, who had of late taken to speaking to Hattie much more often than he had formerly, spoke of it when he came to take some work to the sewing bench, which she had collated.
“To California! Is it not a sudden resolution?” she asked, in wonder.
“Well, may be ’tis on his part. His father did talk of sending me there, for he has long wanted to set up a branch bindery to this on the Pacific coast, but I kind o’ hung back. I love my wife and baby, you see, and I couldn’t have afforded to take ’em with me; and as for leavin’ ’em, I’d rather go down to the paste-bench and work for half wages here.”
Mr. Jones was truly a family man, and it is a pity there are not more family men like him.
“When will Mr. W—— go?” asked Hattie.
“Very soon—as soon as he can get off, he told me this morning, but I don’t know as I ought to have spoken of it, for he never cares to have his plans known. But I know when I tell you anything it will not get blabbed around.”
“No, I shall not speak of it to others,” said Hattie.
And now, when the foreman went away, she felt more than ever wretched. Was he going to leave his pleasant home, his dear parents and sisters, on her account?—because she had thrown a shadow on his life?