I would, for one; and I won't take a cent more."
She was frowning a little over these statements. The stalwart young
man in shabby clothes who sat facing her under the light of Mrs.
Solomon Black's well-trimmed lamp appeared to puzzle her.
"But why shouldn't you want to earn all you can?" she propounded at
last. "Isn't there anything you need to use money for?"
"Oh, just a few things," he admitted grudgingly. "I suppose you've
noticed that I'm not exactly the glass of fashion and the mold of
form."
He was instantly ashamed of himself for the crude personality.
"You must think I'm a fool!" burst from him, under the sting of his
self-inflicted lash.
She smiled and shook her head.
"I'm not at all the sort of person you appear to think me," she said.
Her grave blue eyes looked straight into his. "But don't let's waste
time trying to be clever: I want to ask you if you are willing, for a
fair salary, to take charge of the outdoor improvements at Bolton
House."
She colored swiftly at sight of the quizzical lift of his brows.
"I've decided to call my place 'Bolton House' for several reasons,"
she went on rapidly: "for one thing, everybody has always called it
the Bolton place, so it will be easier for the workmen and everybody
to know what place is meant. Besides, I--"
"Yes; but the name of Bolton has an ill-omened sound in Brookville
ears," he objected. "You've no idea how people here hate that man."
"It all happened so long ago, I should think they might forgive him
by now," she offered, after a pause.
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