Samuel was overwhelmed with astonishment; but it was nothing to what he felt a moment later. His goddess turned to him. “No,” she said. “I'm sorry, Samuel, but it's impossible for me to do what you ask me.”
He stared at her perplexed.
“I have found a place for Sophie,” she went on, “and that is positively all I can do.”
“Miss Gladys!” he exclaimed.
“Really,” she said, “I think you ought not to ask me to do any more. I understand that there is a good deal of suffering among the mill people, and I do what I can to relieve it. But as for taking all the employees into my father's household—that is simply absurd.”
The boy could not find words. He could only stare at her. “That's all,” said Miss Gladys. “And about those flower seeds—do what you can to find them. I want them in a few days, if I'm to use them at all. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Miss Gladys,” he stammered. He had seen her dart a swift glance at the housekeeper, and he was beginning at last to comprehend.
“Bring them to me yourself,” she added. “Good-by.”
“Good-by, Miss Gladys,” he said, and went out.
He went downstairs, marveling. But before he was halfway down the first flight of steps he had forgotten everything except those incredible words—“Samuel, I love you!” They rang in his head like a trumpet call.