An echo of the gratitude the capitalist felt lingered in his voice when he said good night. It was both gentle and husky with emotion and the lad fell asleep marvelling that the men employed at the mills should assert that the Fernalds were frigid and snobby.
CHAPTER VI
MORE GUESTS
When with shining eyes Ted told his father about Mr. Fernald's visit to the shack, Mr. Turner simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled indulgently.
"Likely Mr. Clarence's curiosity got the better of him," said he, "and he wanted to look your place over and see that it warn't too good; or mebbe he just happened to be going by. He never would have taken the trouble to go that far out of his way if he hadn't had something up his sleeve. When men like him are too pleasant, I'm afraid of 'em. And as for Mr. Laurie dropping in—why, his father and grandfather would no more let him associate with folks like us than they'd let him jump headfirst into the river. We ain't good enough for the Fernalds. Probably almost nobody on earth is. And when it comes to Mr. Laurie, why, in their opinion the boy doesn't live who is fit to sit in the same room with him."
Ted's bright face clouded with disappointment.
"I never thought of Mr. Laurie feeling like that," answered he.
"Oh, I ain't saying Mr. Laurie himself is so high and mighty. He ain't. The poor chap has nothing to be high and mighty about and he knows it. Anybody who is as dependent on others as he is can't afford to tilt his nose up in the air and put on lugs. For all I know to the contrary he may be simple as a baby. It's his folks that think he's the king-pin and keep him in cotton wool." Mr. Turner paused, his lip curling with scorn. "You'll never see Mr. Laurie at your shack, mark my words. His people would not let him come even if he wanted to."
The light of eagerness in his son's countenance died entirely.