Part 3 (2/2)

”Miss Lonsdale, my friend, Mr. Berl. We want some work done right away.

Can you attend to it?”

Miss Lonsdale acknowledged the introduction, swept aside a litter of papers, stripped a half-written page from her machine, drew forth a note-book, and, after pus.h.i.+ng her cuffs from her wrists, a.s.sumed a waiting att.i.tude.

Winston addressed Elijah.

”I guess you're fixed now. You go on with Helen and I'll get back to my work. If you need me, I'll come in.” Then he left the office.

Elijah had all but forgotten his business in the contemplation of the girl before him. It was with an almost unconscious feeling of resentment that he heard Winston call her familiarly ”Helen.”

”I am afraid, Miss Lonsdale,” he began, when he was interrupted.

”You can call me Helen. Every one does. It saves time. Time is money, pretty fast too, just now.” The words were spoken with a light ripple.

It faintly occurred to Elijah that he had heard something like her laughter before. There was a suggestion of fresh, crisp air, the opening of spring, of young green plants pus.h.i.+ng through the black soil beside New England brooks. There was a further suggestion that very hard stones in the brook caused the soft ripples. One look in the great, liquid, black eyes that absorbed everything and gave back nothing, took away the disagreeable impression and replaced it with one more agreeable. There was no perceptible pause, for while Elijah's thoughts were busy with Helen Lonsdale, his hands were a.s.sorting his papers. He turned to Helen.

”I was going to say, that I am afraid this work will be rather dry.”

Helen vouchsafed no reply, but, with eyes now bent upon her note-book and pencil ready poised for action, waited for Elijah. He began rather slowly and awkwardly. He was unaccustomed to dictation, and besides he was conscious of Helen Lonsdale's beauty; but more and more rapidly he went on, as he forgot all else in the absorbing interest of his subject.

He sorted paper from paper, went from point to point, clearly and logically, down to the last figure that Winston had given him. He hardly noted the flying fingers and moving hand that drew lines, and hooks, and dots, and dashes with the graceful ease and regularity of an inanimate machine. At length he paused, folding his papers.

Helen threw down her pencil and straightened her cramped fingers.

”Well!” she exclaimed. ”You have given me the time of my life! I was on the point of calling you off once or twice; but I didn't. I'll read it over to you now and see if I have made any mistakes.”

Elijah's face was eager, partly from Helen's indirect praise, but more from the enthusiasm of his subject.

”Aren't you tired?” he asked.

”Tired!” she repeated. ”This doesn't make me tired. It's more fun than a toboggan slide. It's these everlasting drones who make me tired. Fellows who haven't anything to say and who don't know how to get at it.” She took her note-book and began reading rapidly. Elijah listened, watching her through his narrowed eyes. She laid her note-book down.

”How is it?”

”Perfect. You've got everything.”

”That's a great piece of work you've got blocked out.” Helen's voice was approving.

”The work is not mine.”

”No?” Helen's eyes were opened wide.

”No.” Elijah's face drooped in reverent lines. ”It has been given me to do.”

”A-a-h!” Helen dared to commit herself no farther. She could not trust her eyes even. Her lids veiled them and her face a.s.sumed a look of non-committal interest. Elijah was a new species. She had no pigeonhole, even in the wide experience of her limited years, ready made into which she could thrust him.

Elijah felt impelled to go farther. He wanted to look again into the great, black eyes. He steered boldly into a sea where many a time before no less confident mariners had as boldly entered and had come to grief.

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