Everything swam before Rob's eyes as Mr. Baldwin opened a door and ushered her into an office where she dimly perceived three or four gentlemen, and solid mahogany desks and chairs. Into one of the latter she felt herself sink, as someone placed it for her, while Mr. Baldwin presented her in words that seemed to be intended to set her at her ease, but which she hardly heard.
Just what happened first Rob never knew, but she found the oldest of these solid, business-like personages asking her questions, and heard her own voice answering as from afar. Then before her eyes flashed a vision. She saw the wainscoted room at home, and her father—Patergrey—bending his thin form over the models, and saying: "You could explain this as well as I could myself, Rob, my son." And now there was none else to do it—she was acting for Patergrey, saving the work of his life from being lost. She felt as though his wistful eyes were upon her, and she knew that she must not fail him. With that vision fear left her. Straightening herself, she leaned slightly forward in her chair, and said, with a new note of confidence in her voice—confidence in herself and in the machine she had come to explain: "I think, sir, if you please, I can tell you better just how the machine is built and how it works, if you will let me describe it in my own way. If I do not make it clear to you, you will stop me, please, and ask me to explain fully."
The big man with the iron-grey hair stared at this sudden transformation, but Mr. Baldwin understood, with instinctive sympathy, something of what had passed in Rob's mind, and he felt a lump come into his throat as he realized how bravely and loyally Rob loved her father.
Without a moment's hesitation Roberta began her description. Forgetting herself more and more in the interest of her own words, seeing not the stately New York office, but the low-ceiled, dear old wainscoted workroom at home, she rose to her feet, illustrating what she said with articles borrowed from the desk and table before her. Her eyes were dilating and flashing, her color went and came, her voice trembled, but words never failed her, even technical words unconsciously retained from hearing her father use them, words which she could not have used except under the exaltation of her mood and motive.
No one interrupted her; she told her story quite to the end, not noticing the silence in which they heard her. When she ended, and had dropped back into her big chair, her audience stirred. "You are a wonderful young girl, Miss Grey," said the gentleman, who evidently was the person most concerned in the matter. "Your father was singularly fortunate in such a daughter and assistant. We have perfectly understood your description. The invention has important advantageous points of difference from any machine on the market intended for this purpose. I am speaking within bounds in saying that our firm will certainly purchase it, if you will sell to us, and that we shall certainly offer you a fair price, dealing honestly with you. The offer you have received was so dishonest that it is a pity there is no law punishing a rascal for making it, trying to take advantage of women in their new sorrow. We will, by your permission, go to Fayre to see your models, and will then lay before you the offer upon which we will, in the meantime, decide. I can only repeat, Miss Grey, that we want the machine."
Rob arose, trembling in every limb. "If you will send me word when you're coming, I'll meet you at the station; Fayre is rather crooked," she said, faintly.
The gentlemen smiled, and Mr. Baldwin drew Rob's arm through his again, and patted her hand as though she had been Hester.
"Not a bad little girl, is she?" he said, proudly. "You see, she has done her best, and now longs to run away. I am obliged to you for your courtesy, gentlemen, and so is Miss Roberta."
"Oh, yes; thank you ever so much for listening to me," said poor Rob, wondering if she were going to be able to get out of that office without crying like a baby.