“About sixteen, I think,” said Mary Louise.
“Well, when I was his age,” continued Mr. Williams, “I was shovelling coal in a smelting furnace.”
“That isn’t as respectable as being a vegetable boy, is it?” asked Theodore, gravely.
“Both callings are respectable, if they enable one to earn an honest livelihood,” returned his father, with a smile. “There is no disgrace at all in poverty. The only thing that hopelessly condemns a person is laziness or idle inaction.”
“Mother sometimes forgets how very poor we ourselves used to be,” interrupted Mr. Williams, looking earnestly into the circle of eager faces; “and I am very glad she _can_ forget it. I’ll talk to her, however, about your friend Will Carden, and I’ve no doubt when she learns how brave he has been she will at once withdraw her objections to his playing with you.”
“Thank you, papa,” said Mary Louise, reaching out to take his hand in her slim white one.
“You’re all right, daddy; and we love you!” exclaimed Reggie, earnestly.
The great mill owner flushed with pleasure, and his eyes grew bright and moist.
“But,” observed Gladys, her mouth full of bread and butter, “mamma scolds me lots a’ times.”
“Hush!” commanded her father, sternly; and a cloud came over his face and drove the joy from his eyes.
Will Carden, little the worse for his ducking of the day before, sat in his little “office” at the end of the barn, his feet braced against the heater, his chair tipped backward, and his eyes fastened upon an open letter he held in both hands.
He had read it a dozen times since Peter, the coachman up at the big house, had brought it to him, and he was now reading it once more.
It was very brief, simply saying: “Please call at my office at your convenience;” but it was signed “Chester D. Williams,” in big, bold script, and that signature, Will reflected, would be good for thousands of dollars--even hundreds of thousands--if signed to a check.
While the boy was thus engaged, the door burst open and Doctor Meigs entered, stamping the snow from his feet and shaking it from his shoulders as a shaggy Newfoundland dog shakes off the rain. It had been snowing for an hour, and the big flakes were falling slowly and softly, as if they had a mission to fulfill and plenty of time to accomplish it.