Part 6 (1/2)

Again she smiled up at him radiantly, and the young man's astonished glance went from her dusty, cowhide shoes to the thick roll of fair hair on her graceful head. What manner of mill-girls did the mountains send down to the valley?

”But I--” began Stoddard deprecatingly, when Johnnie reddened and broke in hastily.

”Oh, I don't mean that for you. Miss Baird taught me for three years, and I loved her as dearly as I ever could any one. You may keep this flower if you want to; and, come Sunday, I'll get you another one that won't be broken.”

”Why Sunday?” asked Stoddard.

”Well, I wouldn't have time to go after them till then, and the ones I know of wouldn't be open before Sunday. I saw just three there by the spring. That's the way they grow, you know--two or three in a place, and not another for miles.”

”You saw them growing?” repeated Stoddard. ”I should like to see one on its roots, and maybe make a little sketch of it. Couldn't you just as well show me the place Sunday?”

For no reason that she could a.s.sign, and very much against her will, Johnnie's face flushed deeply.

”I reckon I couldn't,” she answered evasively. ”Hit's a long ways up--and--hit's a long ways up.”

”And yet you're going to walk it--after a week's work here in the mill?”

persisted Stoddard. ”You'd better tell me where they grow, and let me go up in my car.”

”I wish't I could,” said Johnnie, embarra.s.sed. ”But you'd never find it in the world. They isn't one thing that I could tell you to know the place by: and you have to leave the road and walk a little piece--oh, it's no use--and I don't mind, I'd just love to go up there and get the flowers for you.”

”Are you the new girl?” inquired a voice at Johnnie's shoulder.

They turned to find a squat, middle-aged man regarding them dubiously.

”Yes,” answered Johnnie, rising. ”I've been waiting quite a while.”

”Well, come this way,” directed the man and, turning, led her away. Down the hall they went, then up a flight of wooden stairs which carried them to a covered bridge, and so to the upper story of the factory.

”That's an unusual-looking girl.” Old Andrew MacPherson made the comment as he received the papers from Stoddard's hands.

”The one I was speaking to in the hall?” inquired Stoddard rather unnecessarily. ”Yes; she seems to have an unusual mind as well. These mountain people are peculiar. They appear to have no idea of cla.s.s, and therefore are in a measure all aristocrats.”

”Well, that ought to square with your socialistic notions,” chaffed MacPherson, sorting the work on his desk and pus.h.i.+ng a certain portion of it toward Stoddard. ”Sit down here, if you please, and we'll go over these now. The girl looked a good deal like a fairy princess. I don't think she's a safe topic for susceptible young chaps like you and me,”

the grizzled old Scotchman concluded with a chuckle. ”Your socialistic hullabaloo makes you liable to foregather with all sorts of impossible people.”

Gray shook his head, laughing, as he seated himself at the desk beside the other.

”Oh, I'm only a theoretical socialist,” he deprecated.

”Hum,” grunted the older man. ”A theoretical socialist always seemed to me about like a theoretical pickpocket--neither of them stands to do much harm. For example, here you are, one of the richest young fellows of my acquaintance, living along very contentedly where every tenet you profess to hold is daily outraged. You're not giving away your money.

You take a healthy interest in a good car, a good dinner, the gals; I'm even told you have a fad for old porcelains--and yet you call yourself a socialist.”

”These economic conditions are not a pin,” answered Gray, smiling. ”I don't have to jump and say 'ouch!' the minute I find they p.r.i.c.k me.

Worse conditions have always been, and no doubt bad ones will survive for a time, and pa.s.s away as mankind outgrows them. I haven't the colossal conceit to suppose that I can reform the world--not even push it much faster toward the destination of good to which it is rolling.

But I want to know--I want to understand, myself; then if there is anything for me to do I shall do it. It may be that the present conditions are the best possible for the present moment. It may be that if a lot of us got together and agreed, we could better them exceedingly. It is not certain in my mind yet that any growth is of value to humanity which does not proceed from within. This is true of the individual--must it not be true of the cla.s.s?”

”No doubt, no doubt,” agreed MacPherson, indifferently. ”Most of the men who are loud in the leaders.h.i.+p of socialism have made a failure of their own lives. We'll see what happens when a man who is a personal and economic success sets up to teach.”