Part 4 (1/2)

”Now, listen, little woman,” he said as they gravely regarded each other.

”This is important. If I take you this morning, will you promise to be a good girl, and sit in the office, and not go wandering off by yourself?

Will you promise me that?”

This, too, may have been heredity, going back as far as Eve: Still gravely regarding him she nodded her head in silence and promised him with a kiss. He set her down, her hand automatically slipping into his palm again, and together they walked to the factory.

The road made a sharp descent to the interval by the side of the river, almost affording a bird's-eye view of the buildings below--lines of workshops of an incredible length, their ventilators like the helmets of an army of giants.

A freight train was disappearing into one of the warehouses. Long lines of trucks stood on the sidings outside. Wisps of steam arose in every direction, curious, palpitating.

From up the river the roar of the falls could just be heard while from the open windows of the factory came that humming note of industry which, more than anything else, is like the sound which is sometimes made by a hive of bees, immediately before a swarm.

It was a scene which always gave Josiah a well-nigh oppressive feeling of pride and punishment--pride that all this was his, that he was one of those Spencers who had risen so high above the common run of man--punishment that he had betrayed the trust which had been handed down to him, that he had broken the long line of fathers and sons which had sent the Spencer reputation, with steadily increasing fame, to the corners of the earth. As he walked down the hall that Sat.u.r.day morning, his sombre eyes missing no detail, he felt Mary's fingers tighten around his hand and, glancing down at her, he saw that her attention, too, was engrossed by the scene below, her eyes large and bright as children's are when they listen to a fairy tale.

Arrived at the office, he placed her in a chair by the side of his desk, and you can guess whether she missed anything of what went on. Clerks, business callers, heads of departments came and went. All had a smile for Mary who gravely smiled in return and straightway became her dignified little self again.

”When is Mr. Woodward expected back?” Josiah asked a clerk.

”On the ten-thirty, from Boston.”

This was Stanley Woodward, Josiah's cousin--Cousin Stanley of the spider's web whom you have already met. He was now the general manager of the factory, and had always thought that fate was on his side since the night he had heard of Martha's death and that the child she left behind her was a girl.

Josiah glanced at his watch.

”Time to make the rounds,” he said and, lifting Mary on his arm, he left the office and started through the plant.

And, oh, how Mary loved it--the forests of belts, whirring and twisting like live things, the orderly lines of machine tools, each doing its work with more than human ingenuity and precision, the enormous presses reminding her of elephants stamping out pieces of metal, the grinders which sang to her, the drilling machines which whirred to her, the polis.h.i.+ng machines which danced for her, the power hammers which bowed to her. Yes, and better than all was the smile that each man gave her, smiles that came from the heart, for all the quiet respect that accompanied them.

”It's his daughter,” they whispered as soon as Josiah was out of hearing.

Here and there one would stop smiling and say, ”I remember the day he brought her mother through--”

At the end of one of the workshops, Mr. Spencer looked at his watch again.

”We'd better get back to the office,” he said. ”Tired, dear?”

In a rapture of denial, she kicked her little toes against his side.

”Bred in the bone...” he mused. ”Eh, if she had only been a boy...!” But that was past all sighing for, and in the distance he saw Cousin Stanley, just back from Boston, evidently coming to find him.

Mary, too, was watching the approaching figure. She had sometimes seen him at the house and had formed against him one of those instinctive dislikes which few but children know. As Stanley drew near she turned her head and buried her face against her father's shoulder.

”Good news?” asked Josiah.

”Good news, of course,” said Stanley, speaking as an irresistible force might speak, if it were endowed with a tongue. ”When Spencer & Son start out for a thing, they get it.” You could tell that what he meant was ”When Stanley Woodward starts out for a thing, he gets it.” His elbows suddenly grew restless. ”It will take a lot of money,” he added. ”Of course we shall have to increase the factory here--”

Still Mary kept her face hidden against her father's shoulder.

”Got the little lady with you, I see.”