"Winifred!" he whispered, over and over again, and, as he neared his stately mansion—all quiet, serene, and beautiful to look upon—a great wave of regret seized him because she had never crossed its threshold "in the life."
CHAPTER II. WILLIAM PARKINS ARRIVES
The arrival of William Parkins on schedule time, all energy and activity, completely changed the atmosphere of the peaceful home at Dreamy Hollow. Parkins could not sit still. His face, red with sunburn, seemed that of a dissipated man. He fidgeted in his chair, or paced the floor while talking incessantly about the business and its prospects. He had, since Villard's retirement, become its "steering wheel," according to his own estimation. Others in the great organization who, with no shouting of self-praise, had suddenly become open game for his shafts of criticism. With blearing eyes he asserted that if left to himself he would buy out the interest of two or more stockholders—"dead ones"—he called them, but for the fact that his own contract with Villard had foreclosed upon the possibility. In less than half an hour he had, by hint and innuendo, thrown a wet blanket over the future prospects of the company. The morale was "bad." A strong man was needed at the helm—that was his verdict. And in amazement Villard listened without a word from his lips. Had the man suddenly gone crazy!—that was his first thought, but—as Parkins continued, Villard became convinced that he was a knave.
"With your approval, Drury," said Parkins, assuming a new familiarity, "I can make a great institution out of the company. It would be no trick for me to put all competition out of business. In fact, I have a plan——"
"What would you do with the present organization?" Drury Villard asked softly, but with a glint in his eyes that should have warned his guest of a lack of sympathy toward such a scheme.
"I'd scrap it!" replied Parkins, with energy.
"Scrap it!"
Villard raised himself to a straight-up sitting posture.