“I see,” said Danny, with another smile; “a sort of Private Secretary as it were.”
“And attend to any errands my granddaughter may require.”
“I thank you, Mr. ——”
“Hathaway is my name, sir.”
“Mr. Hathaway. The job you offer does not impress me.”
“You fool!” roared the old gentleman, exasperated both by the refusal and the dignity with which it was made by this uncleanly, disfigured soldier. “Why do you turn down a position without looking at it? Many a young fellow in Dorfield would be glad of the offer I have made you.” He thought how Mary Louise would laugh at him when he told her how, finally, he had offered “the job” to the solitary soldier and had been ridiculed and refused. “Walk over with me to my place and inspect the premises and then you may change your mind.”
“All right!” responded Danny, jumping up with a cheerful face that betrayed he felt no malice at having been labeled a fool by the irascible old gentleman. “Let’s walk over and look at your ranch. I may find it better than I think it is. But I’ve a pretty good estimate now of an old-fashioned country villa ‘facing the park.’ They’re very grand, magnificent, you know, and usually belong to the most prosperous men in town. Come on, Mr. Hathaway.”
“That’s right, Danny,” whispered Will White, as his friend passed out. “It’s a whale of a place; and then, too, there’s Mary Louise!”