When Miss Kendall came down-stairs at eight o'clock that night she found waiting for her in the drawing-room--into which McGinnis had been shown by her express orders--a young man whose dress, attitude, and expression radiated impersonality and business, in spite of his sumptuous surroundings.
In directing that the young man should be shown into the drawing-room instead of into the more informal library or living-room, Margaret had vaguely intended to convey to him the impression that he was a highly-prized friend, and as such was entitled to all honor; but she had scarcely looked into the cold gray eyes, or touched the half-reluctantly extended fingers before she knew that all such efforts had been without avail. The young man had not come to pay a visit: he was an employee who had obeyed the command of one in authority.
McGinnis stood just inside the door, hat in hand. His face was white, and his jaw stern-set. His manner was quiet, and his voice when he spoke was steady. There was nothing about him to tell the girl--who was vainly trying to thaw the stiff frigidity of his reserve--that he had spent all day and half the night in lashing himself into just this manner that so displeased her.
"Yes," smiled the girl. "And doesn't your conscience prick you, sir, because I _had_ to send for you, when you should have come long ago of your own accord to see me?" she demanded playfully, motioning him to a seat. Then, before he could reply, she went on hurriedly: "I wanted to see you very much. By something that Mr. Spencer said the other evening I suspected that you were interested in the children who work in the mills--particularly interested. And--you are?"
"And you know them--lots of them? You know their parents, and how they live?"
"Yes, I know them well--too well." He added the last softly, almost involuntarily.
The girl heard, and threw a quick look of sympathy into his eyes.
"Good! You are just the one I want, then," she cried. "And you will help me; won't you?"
McGinnis hesitated. An eager light had leaped to his eyes. For a moment he dared not speak lest his voice break through the lines of stern control he had set for it.
"I shall be glad to give you any help I can," he said at last, steadily; "but Mr. Spencer, of course, knows----" he paused, leaving his sentence unfinished.